it ain't me, babe
by graceviolets
Summary: It's 1962 and Quinn is supposed to marry the son of doctor. She's supposed to swoon over the big diamond ring and about the thought of having tons of babies. Instead she meets the eye of someone else, someone she's not supposed to feel anything about.
1. Chapter 1

"Sit up straight, Quinn" Judy sighed.

Quinn slouched down even lower and continued to pick at her food. It was too hot to eat.

"Why can't we just get that new air conditioning thing?" she asked, feeling drips of sweat running down her forehead.

"Because it cost money, Quinn" her father replied, rolling his eyes at her brother in law, Carlton, who sat opposite from him.

"At least you're inside, Quinn" Carlton snickered. "Picture how the workers outside picking cotton must feel."

Quinn ignored him. She was too hot to bother coming up with a clever respond. The fan in the ceiling of the dining room didn't help much. Grace, the maid, had dark spots of sweat under her arms and on her back. Quinn took a sip of ice tea and waited for the rest of her family to finish eating.

"Will we have enough by the end of the month?" her father asked Carlton.

"I goddamn hope so" Carlton answered, "but those negros complain about the heat. Do you know what I say when they do that?"

"What do you say, honey?" Frannie, Quinn's sister asked.

"I tell them to go back to Africa then, it's so damn uncomfortable for them here."

Judy smiled politely. Frannie clapped her hands in amusement.

"Good man" Russell smiled. "Good man."

Quinn tried to fan herself with her hand. As she wanted was to go back to her room, turn on her hand fan and strip down to her underwear.

"I've got us some extra hands" Carlton said, proudly. "To help us get finished before the big shipment."

"I saw them this morning" Russell nodded. "They looked good, strong."

Carlton beamed. Quinn sometimes wondered who he loved more, Frannie or her father. He spent more time trying to impress his father-in-law by getting the cotton picking to go smooth, than he ever did to get his wife to swoon.

"There was a white boy among them" Judy said. "I saw him."

"He's some kind of mixed race" Carlton said, shrugging. "A Jew."

Quinn sat up a bit straighter. She had never met a Jew in her life. Actually, she had never ever met anyone who wasn't a Christian.

"As long as he pulls his weight…" Russell began.

"Oh, he will" Carlton promised him.

"What's his name?" Quinn asked.

They all turned and looked at her.

"Who, dear?" Judy asked.

"The Jewish boy."

"Puckerman, I think" Carlton shrugged. "Noah Puckerman. The boys call him _Puck _for short. Why?"

"No reason. Can I be excused please? I have to get ready for my date."

Judy nodded.

…

Richard Adams was the son of a doctor. He always wore grey suits on their dates. He always ordered her white wine and the chicken, just because she had once said that she liked chicken. And he was probably the man she would marry.

"How has your day been?" he asked.

"Hot" she replied, almost forgetting to smile so that he would understand she was joking.

He smiled back.

"I almost miss winter" he said.

She nodded and swallowed a piece of chicken. The restaurant had A/C and it was turned so cold that she had goose bumps all over her arms.

"Are you cold now?" he asked, carefully stroking her skin.

"Oh no" she assured him. "I love it."

Richard smiled. He was almost ten years older than her, 30 years old. He had a good job and nice house and a good background. It was a wonder that he wasn't married yet.

"You look lovely tonight, Quinn" he told her.

She smiled. Grace had curled her hair at the ends and sprayed with layer after layer with hairspray. She wore a little make up and a blue sundress. In her mother's eyes, she looked perfect. In her own, she looked just like Frannie.

"Thank you."

They had met through Carlton. They had gone to college together but Quinn couldn't understand how they could have been friends. Carlton was loud and obnoxious while Richard was quiet and… dull. That was the best way to describe him.

"Quinn, I was wondering, I think it's time for you to meet my family."

"I have met your family, Richard. I met them at the Christmas Charity, remember?"  
>"Yes, but I want you to come to dinner."<p>

Quinn smiled. The meeting the family. It was a sign of that things was getting serious. Soon, he would pull out a tacky ring and ask her to marry him. She shuddered.

"You're shivering" he said, covering her hand in his.

"Maybe I'm just tired."

He nodded.

"Think about the dinner, Quinn. My mother would like to get to know you better."

"I will" Quinn promised

…

"How did it go, Miss Quinn?" Grace asked as she helped Quinn get out of her dress.

"Fine, I suppose."

"Mr. Adams is a good man, Miss Quinn."

"I know he is, Grace."

She felt sticky again after the drive home. Richard had kissed her on the porch, held her tight with his sweaty hands. She needed a shower.

"Your mama would be very happy if you married him, Miss Quinn."

"I know."

She stepped out of the dress. In an attempt to cool down the room, she opened the window. There wasn't really a breeze outside but it felt less stuffy with the sound of the wind rustling the cotton plants.

"Frannie's been married for almost four years now, Miss Quinn."

"You don't say."

She knew that her maid meant well, but she wanted to be alone with her thoughts.

"He's as good as anyone, Mr. Adams is."

"I know, Grace."

"You're 22 now, Quinn. You finished college. It's time you found a husband."

Quinn turned to face Grace, the one who had changed her diapers and made her food and consoled since she was a baby.

"Why do I need to find a husband, Grace? Couldn't I just find a good job that I like?"

Grace shook her head.

"Maybe in New York you can, Miss Quinn, but not here. Not in Arkansas."

Quinn nodded.

"I'm going to bed" she said. "Good night."

Grace left the room. Quinn looked out the window again. Some of the workers were leaving the plantation. She couldn't see who they were because of the dark, but she knew some of them. Martin and Wallace, Grace's sons, had played with her before it she got too old and it became too inappropriate. A car's headlights flashed and lit up the grounds. She could see more of the men. Quinn recognized Matt and Eugene, hunchbacked and tired by the gates. And she saw the white boy. He had short, cropped hair, wide shoulders and big grin on his face. The Jew.

…

"How did it go, Quinny?" Frannie asked as they walked the edge of the plantation with baby James in the stroller.

James was the fattest, ugliest child in the world and Frannie's world revolved around him. Quinn couldn't understand how something so small could matter so much to someone as selfish as Frannie.

"It went fine."

"Rich would be _such _a good man for you, darl'. He's educated, like you."

"That's the only thing that we have in common?"

Frannie let out a false laugh.

"You're so funny."

Quinn dropped the subject. She raised her hand and waved at Martin who was loading a truck. He waved back. Next to him stood the new boy, the white one.

"It doesn't look right, does it?" Frannie whispered. "A white man, working with all those negros."

Quinn ignored her. Noah, that was his name. Apparently, the boy felt her gaze on him because he grinned and lifted his hat in greeting. She averted her eyes.

"I mean, he could do better" Frannie went on.

"Maybe he likes working here" Quinn suggested, still watching her feet, feeling his's eyes on her back.

"In the sweltering heat? For minimum wage?"

"People are different, Fran. Not everyone likes the same things as you do."

Frannie huffed.

"So that's what they teach you in college…"

"Well, you wouldn't know, would you? Since you never went."

"I got married!"

"Is that supposed to be better?"

They both stopped. Some of the men watched them. Frannie took a deep breath.

"Look here, honey. You got to play around at school for four years. You got your degree in whatever. Now go and get your life started. Marry Richard and…."

"What if I don't?" Quinn asked.

Maybe it was heat getting to her but she wanted to fight.

"Is there a problem, ladies?" Carlton asked, appearing behind them.

He kissed Frannie's cheek and tickled James' tummy.

"Quinn's just being melodramatic" Frannie smiled.

"You shouldn't upset your sister, Quinn" Carlton joked, poking her arm. "She's carrying my baby boy inside her!"

They both giggled and Quinn walked away, leaving them with their joy over something as mundane as a baby.

…

Again that night, Quinn opened her window and watched as the last plantation workers went home. Noah was with them tonight yet again. He and some other guy shared a cigarette by the fence, talking about something and laughing. She liked his laugh, it was loud and real.

"What you looking at, Miss Quinn?" Grace asked.

"Just cooling down" Quinn lied, closing the window behind her.

"Mr. Adams called, you mother answered. He invited you to dinner at his mother's house on Friday."

"And I suppose mama said yes?"

"She did."

Quinn nodded. She let Grace unzip her dress and comb out her hair before she crept down under the sheets.

"Your mama would be so happy if you came home from that dinner with a ring on your finger" Grace murmured.

"I know."

"Two girls, she set to the world, your mama" she said, stroking Quinn's cheek. "One was polite and articulate and poised. And the other was beautiful."

Grace had told this story many times before but Quinn stilled asked.

"Which one am I?"

"Silly girl, you know you're the pretty one. Always were. Even when you were a tiny baby."

"I'm smart too, Grace."

"I'm sure you are, Miss Quinn."

"Why doesn't anyone care that I have a degree? That I can play the piano? Why does it only matter how I look?"

Grace made a disappointed sound with her lips.

"Don't complain that you have too much, Miss Quinn. Think of those who have no beauty."

"Right" Quinn whispered.

"You and Mr. Adams will live a very happy life together."

"If you say so."

Grace patted her cheek one last time and then got up.

"Good night, Miss Quinn."

"Good night, Grace."

…

Her mother bought Quinn a new dress for the dinner. It was very high fashioned; very tight and hard to walk in. Apparently, Jackie Kennedy had worn a similar one back in May.

"You could give her a run for her money" Judy said, kissing her daughter's cheek. "You are just as pretty as the first lady, Quinn."

"You make me long for being skinny again" Frannie sighed, holding a hand on her stomach.

As if her face would change just because she got rid of that bump. Quinn never bragged about her looks, but she knew that she was attractive. She had a symmetrical face, sculpted features, sharp cheekbones and big eyes. She had one the appearance lottery.

"Rich's gonna go ballistic when he sees you" Carlton snickered.

Quinn doubted that _Rich _would ever do anything as crazy as "go ballistic". He would smile at her and complement her dress and then stare at her face during the entire dinner. Just as he always did.

"I'm going outside to wait for him" Quinn said, not standing to be inside with her family any longer.

She leaned carefully against the gate, anxious to get dirt on her new dress. Her mother would kill her for that.

"Look at you" a voice said. "You dressed up, just for me."

Quinn turned. Noah Puckerman was walking towards her, cigarette in his hand and the hand in his pocket.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Or are you waiting for someone else?"

She rolled her eyes and stared down the dirt road, waiting to see Richard's car.

"I'm Puck" he said and extended his hand.

It was dirty but she had manners and shook it.

"Quinn Fabray."

"The boss's daughter."

"Yes."

He smiled.

"I'm new here, just helping out with the pickin'."

"I know, my brother-in-law told me."

"Oh, so you're not Mr. Carlton's wife then?"

She shook her head.

"Nope. That would be my sister. The pregnant one."

Puck smiled again. He offered her the cigarette but she shook her head.

"Afraid you'll get cooties from me?" he asked, snickering.

"I don't smoke."

"Of course you do. All you pretty, rich ladies smoke."

"Not me."

He dropped the cigarette on the ground and stamped it out.

"Where you off to then, Miss Quinn, if you're not waiting for me?"

"My boyfriend's picking me up."

"Is that his car?"

Richard's red corvette drove up the road and parked in front of them.

"It is."

"Well, you have nice time, Miss Quinn" Puck said.

"You too."

She took one last look at his broad shoulders, toned arms and wide grin before she got into Richard's car.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"A worker" she replied.

"He's white."

"So they keep repeating" she sighed.

…

Richard's mother was in the fifties, had graying hair and a expression of constant skepticism on her face.

"Quinn" she said, taking Quinn's hand in hers. "How nice of you to come."

"Thank you for inviting me, Ma'am."

Mr. Adams was frail and old, maybe fifteen years older than his wife. He too shook Quinn's hand before sitting back down on his chair.

"I know your mama of course" Mrs. Adams said. "A lovely woman."

"She only has good things to say about you" Quinn lied.

There was probably nothing wrong with Richard's mom but Judy was the worst gossiper in the south of Arkansas. She had something bad to say about everyone.

"How's the harvesting going?" Mr. Adams asked. "Must be a lot of work for your father?"

"Oh no, not for him. He still works nine to five. The workers though, they have a hard time."

She smiled sweetly and Mr. Adams smiled uncertainly back.

"And you're brother-in-law, he helps out?"

"Yes" Quinn nodded.

"Carlton Barton" Richard said. "You know him, dad, he went to school with me."

His father nodded.

"A short, talkative boy?"

"That's the one" Quinn said.

A black maid served the first course. It was asparagus soup, one of Grace's favorite meals to make for Quinn when she was sick. Grace's had a bit more color though; this one was pale, almost gray.

"Thank you" she smiled at the maid, who blushed and disappeared.

"Richard tells us that you graduated from college this spring" Mrs. Adams said.

"Yes, Ma'am."

Quinn was the only girl she knew who had finished school. Frannie hadn't even bothered with college. Quinn's best friends, Brittany and Rachel, had both dropped out before junior year to get married.

"You're such a pretty girl, Quinn. You must like school very much."

Translation, _if you're so pretty, why aren't you married yet?_

"I do" Quinn assured her. "I loved every minute of college."  
>"What did you major in?"<p>

"I majored in literature and minored in education, Sir."

Mrs. Adams looked relieved. She had probably been scared that Quinn would have majored in something, like business, that would actually give her a steady job.

"Well, reading and teaching, that's two important things for life."

"Quinn loves reading, she always carries a book in her purse" Richard told his parents.

Quinn smiled conformingly.

"I would love to work a library" she said.

"My dear friend, Mary O'Brian is volunteering at the white library in town. I could give her a call, see if they have room for another girl willing to help out."

"Thank you, ma'am."

But the truth was; Quinn didn't want work at a library that was preceded by the word _white_. She wanted to work a university library, old and dark, with endless shelves of books. And the word _volunteer _didn't suit her either. She wanted to _work_. Four years of college should make her eligible for a real job. But that sort of talk didn't fit in at the dinner of your future in-laws.

"It's always nice to do some good in society, don't you think?" Mrs. Adams went on.

Quinn nodded.

"Of course."  
>"There are so many people you can help."<p>

Quinn nodded again.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"The wives of our family have a great legacy of sending food to those poor people in Africa."

"I see."

"They are used as slaves; did you know that, Quinn?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I did."

"It's such a pity, not treating them as equals."

The maid came back and collected their plates. Mr. Adams didn't even look at her. Mrs. Adams complained about the soup. Richard stared down onto his plate.

"Everyone should be treated like equals" Quinn agreed.

…

Richard leaned in and kissed her mouth. She kissed him back, without real interest or feeling. He cupped the back of her head and pulled her closer.

"My mother loved you" he whispered.

"I'm glad."

They stood behind a tree, outside the gates, far away enough so that Judy wouldn't see when Richard held her tight around the waist.

"I knew she would. You fit in perfectly with my family, Quinn."

"Thank you" she said even though she didn't know if that was the correct answer.

"It just feels _right_, doesn't it? You and me?"

He slid his hand down her side, over hip. She almost rolled her eyes. Was that the most vulgar thing he could think of?

"Richard, I want to work. You know, a real job."

He looked at her, confused.

"Why?"

"I just…" she began. "Why do you want to work?"

"To provide for my family."

"Is that it?"

He shrugged. He was thirty years old but looked like a teenager with his dazed expression.

"None of your friends work, Quinn."

"I know, but I want to."

He shook his head, smiling again.

"Darling, you'll be working – at home. Looking after the house and the help and the children."

He kissed her again. She sighed. There was no point. He didn't get it. No one did.

…

"Grace, would you rather be home with your children than work here?" Quinn asked.

She peered out the window even thought it was late and the workers had already gone home for the night. It was quiet outside, perfectly still.

"My babies are old now, Miss Quinn. They don't need their mama no more."

"Do you like working?"

Grace shrugged, like she had never thought about it.

"I've been working for your family since I was sixteen."

"That's not an answer" Quinn said.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"Don't you think it's unfair, that you have to work, taking care of other people's houses, while my mother does nothing?

"It's how it is, Miss Quinn."

Quinn gave up. She finished her tea and crept into bed. Grace stroked her hair.

"You can't change the world" she whispered. "You can just live in it."

"Why can't we change the world?" Quinn asked.

Grace smiled as if it was a joke.

"You will marry Mr. Adams and I will take care of your babies, Miss Quinn."

"That's how it is?" she asked.

Grace nodded.

"Yes, that's how it is."

…

Quinn couldn't sleep. She spent all night biting her nails and reading a Henry James novel. As dawn broke, she heard voices. She saw Carlton herding a group of workers towards the fields. He talked to them like they were children, enunciating and using uncomplicated words. Quinn could see how the men rolled their eyes behind their backs.

"We need a good day from you today" Carlton told them loudly.

Noah Puckerman was the last one in the group. He had a cigarette lit in the corner of his mouth and sleepy look in his eyes. Suddenly he looked up at her and waved. She quickly hid behind the curtain.

"Who you waving to, Puck?" someone asked.

"My future wife" he snickered back.

"Oh dream on."

"We're meant for each other, Eugene, I'm telling you."

The men laughed heartily at him.

"You may be white, Puckerman, but that doesn't mean you're good enough for Miss Fabray."

"You never know" Puck said. "I might surprise you."

Quinn stayed hidden until the sound of their voices had died out. Suddenly she felt exhausted. She clambered down into bed and closed her eyes. How could a man's voice make her heart beat faster than Richard's kisses? It wasn't logical.


	2. go away from my window

Quinn sat down on her porch with a big glass of lemonade and a book. The grounds were busy today. A big shipment was due within hours and cotton was packed and loaded. Sweaty men covered the paths and roads. Cars were left empty with their engines running. Carlton was shouting like a mad man.

"I guess you wouldn't let me have a sip of that?"

Quinn looked up from the book. Noah Puckerman stood a few feet from her, grinning.

"Aren't you supposed to work?" she asked, getting up and handing him the glass.

"Lunch break, Miss Fabray."

"You're not eating."

"Didn't have time to make something."

He tried to hand her the glass back.

"Keep it" she sighed.

"Don't want to drink when I have? Might give you diseases, right?"

"Stop going on about that" she exhaled. "I'll go in and tell Grace to make you sandwich."

"Nah, I'm okay" he said, downing the lemonade

His white t-shirt was drenched with sweat. She could see the outlines of his muscles beneath the fabric. He caught her looking and his grin broadened.

"How did your date go, the other night?" he asked.

"Fine, thank you" she said.

She lingered awkwardly as he held onto the glass.

"You want more?"

"No, thanks."

"And you're sure about that sandwich?"

"I'm good for today, might take you up on it some time, though."

"Don't you have a wife to make you lunch?" she asked, giving him a half-smile.

"Nope."

"Too bad."

He shrugged and finally gave her the glass. It had turned hot under his fingers.

"Are you going to leave when the shipments is done?" she asked.

"Don't know yet. If your husband likes me, I might get a permanent job here."

"He's not my husband, I told you that."

"Right."

He continued to grin at her.

"Should get back to work" he said.

"You should."

"Thanks for the drink, Miss Fabray."

"Sure."

He turned her back and went down the path. She watched him until he was out of her sight. Then she turned to sit back down and spotted Grace standing in the door way.

"Not a good idea, Miss Quinn" she said.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

…

"Richard's mother invited me out for lunch" Judy said happily.

"Great" Quinn mumbled.

They were taking lunch out to Russell and Carlton. Quinn carries a bag of sandwiches, Judy a pitcher of ice tea and Frannie pushed James along in his stroller.

"I can't believe little Quinny is finally getting married" she smiled, squeezing Quinn's shoulder.

"We don't know that yet."

"Oh, Rich dotes on you, sis. Anyone can see it. It's just a matter of time before he proposes."

Judy giggled girlishly. Quinn wondered how she could be related to them.

"Carlton!" Frannie exclaimed immediately as she spotted her husband.

He was sitting under a sun umbrella, fanning himself with the newspaper. A smile spread across his face.

"Is it my lucky day?" he asked. "Three gorgeous women bringing me food."

"Oh, Carlton, you charmer" Judy said.

Quinn didn't say anything. She poured her brother-in-law a glass of tea and then walked away from her family.

"Find your daddy, Quinn!" Judy called after her. "I made him a tuna sandwich."

_No_, Quinn thought. _Grace made him a tuna sandwich._

"Sure" she called back.

She walked along the neat rows of cotton plants. The workers turned at the sound of her feet and said hello and smiled. Most of them were fairly new and she had never seen them before, but they all knew who she was. The boss's daughter.

"Your father is just beyond this field" a man told her.

His hands were bleeding. Quinn knew how hard it was to pick the cotton without scratching yourself. She had tried once when she was younger and had to bandage both hands for a week.

"Thank you" she said.

The man smiled and went back to work.

"Looking for me?"

"Hello Noah" she sighed without turning.

He fell into step next to her. His hands too were scratched, but not that bad. He smelled of sweat and dirt and musk.

"I told you that you didn't have to bring me lunch" he said and grinned.

"I'm looking for my daddy."

"Yeah, let's go with that story."

The workers shook their heads at Puck. Some amused, but most of them looked scared. What did they think she would do? Sentence him to death for talking to her?

"For someone who has a boyfriend, Miss Quinn, you spend a lot of time ogling me."

"I don't _ogle _anything" she said dryly.

"Just like looking out of your window, do you?"

"I've been looking out my window longer than you've been here."

"Right."

Quinn spotted her father. He was screaming at a young boy.

"Guess you found him" Puck said.

"That's my father alright. Screaming and cursing."

She stopped, not wanting to go closer until he was done arguing with that poor worker.

"Charming, your family is" Puck remarked.

"I know."

"You sure you're not adopted?"

"Sometimes I wonder" she sighed.

He grinned at her and quickly, put his hand on hers. It was just for a second and then he disappeared. Quinn stared at her hand. She had dirt on her knuckle, a trace of him.

"Daddy" she called, eager to get off the field. "Daddy, we brought you lunch."

…

"Carlton" she began.

Her brother-in-law tore his eyes away from TV, looking surprise. She hadn't made a habit of talking to him very often.

"What's up?" he asked.

She weighed the words on her tongue, wondering if she dared ask.

"Do you anything about that new guy? The white one?" she murmured quietly so that Grace wouldn't hear.

"Not really" Carlton said, but he turned to face her which meant that he knew a lot. "Apparently, he just moved here with his mother when his father split from them."

"Split?"

"I don't know, left, whatever."

_Whatever_.

"How did he found us?"

"He lives in a black neighborhood, guess he met someone who told him that we needed men."

"He lives in a black neighborhood?"

"Don't sound so surprised" Carlton yawned. "He must be some kind of mixed race, he's not as white as you and me. And he's a Jew, remember?"

"Right" she whispered.

"Why do you ask anyway?"

"No reason" she smiled.

The good thing about Carlton was that he was to self-obsessed to care about her motives.

"You have to be careful around those kinds of guys, Quinn" he warned her. "They're like animals when they see a pretty girl. Don't walk the fields alone."

"What do you mean, _like animals_?" she asked, staring imploringly at him as he tried to push a whole chicken thigh into his mouth.

"You know" he grunted, mouth full of meat. "They can't control their urges. Might go for you, you know."

"_Might go for me_?" she asked, even if she knew that arguing with him was pointless.

"Yeah" he nodded, gravy dripping down his chin. "You know, like horny dogs."

She excused herself.

…

Church was the only place that felt cool. Maybe it was the stone walls or the open windows or maybe it was God who was finally giving them some colder weather. Quinn lingered inside after the service and the others had filed out.

"Can I play for a bit?" she asked the reverend

He nodded and she sat down by the piano. She had one at home of course, the one she had learnt to play at. But the atmosphere and the echo made playing inside the church almost magically. She let her fingers dance over keys and smiled at the music that escaped at her will.

"Wow" Richard breathed behind her. "I didn't know you could play."

"You never asked" she replied, trying very hard to keep the edge out of her voice.

"Don't stop" he begged, but she shut the lid and stood up.

She never liked playing in front of audiences.

"I need to get going."

"Are you mad at me, Quinn?" Richard asked, smiling uncertainly at her. "I mean, about what you said about working."

"Not really."

"But kind of?"

"We don't have the same views."

He still had that stupid smile on his face, like she was a child that he had to keep from breaking down.

"I spoke to my mother. She is sure we can work it out, you and me."

"Well" Quinn snorted. "How comforting that your mother thinks so."

He didn't understand the sarcasm. Maybe that was why he was thirty and unmarried.

"My mother's waiting for me" Quinn said.

"Right."

She passed him and walked out of the church. Her mother was engrossed in conversation with Rachel's mother. Rachel stood next to them, caressing her belly. Her first baby was on the way. Quinn raised her hand and waved. Rachel waved back.

"Richard Adams, huh?" she asked, winking.

"Yeah" Quinn exhaled.

She remembered sitting with Rachel in middle school, shaking hands on that they would change the world. They had even gone to college together. Rachel had gone into nursing, certain that her calling was holding sick children's hands and making them healthy again. Then she had met Finn at a sorority meetings and dropped out of college. Just like that.

"You will love married life" Rachel sighed, rubbing her pregnant stomach again.

"Really?" Quinn asked tersely.

"Oh yes. It's all the best things about life."

Quinn doubted that.

"When's the baby due?" she asked to change the subject.

"November" Rachel squealed. "If it's a boy, we're going to name him Leroy after my father."

"Wonderful."

Did love brainwash people? Rachel had always been ambitious and driven. Now, she acted just like Frannie.

…

Sunday was a boring day, except from church. Mainly because the plantation was dead. No work was being done on Sundays. No voices or laughter filled the grounds. It was just empty. Quinn finished a book, walked around the garden and even tried to speak to Frannie, just to make time pass. Was this what married life would be like? She would live in some house in town, watching over her maid and whining about prices on gas.

"Darl', if you're bored, take Jamie out for a walk will you?" Frannie said.

Quinn jumped to chance to get out of the house. She carefully placed baby James in the stroller. He smiled up at her.

"You're almost one and a half" she told him. "And still dumb."

He laughed and she shook her head at him. No use.

"Not your fault, I guess" she went on as she pushed his stroller around the small lake on their property. "Your mother is the stupidest woman I have ever met and your father's an idiot. No offense."

"Who are you talking to?"

She jumped and turned. Puck stood, leaning against the oldest truck she had ever seen.

"God" she said, clutching her chest. "Cough of something. Make your presence known. You scared me to death."

"Sorry, Miss Fabray" he snickered.

"I was talking to the baby."

"Not yours, I recon?"

"My sister's."

She kept walking, knowing he would follow her. He did.

"What are you doing here on a Sunday?" she asked.

"I've come to beg your asshole of a brother-in-law to give me a permanent job."

She gave him a look. _Asshole._ Wow. He wasn't afraid to offend her.

"I wouldn't do it right now. He's watching the game with the love of his life, my father."

Puck laughed. She remembered how much she liked that sound.

"Maybe later, then?" he asked.

"Yeah, after dinner. He's happy then."

"Thanks for the advice."

"Why do you even want to work here?" she asked, examining him as they walked. "I can't imagine that they pay you very well and Carlton treats you like dogs."

He was wearing a pair of jeans, the lightest color of blue imaginable. His t-shirt was black and had a hole by the collar.

"It's not like people are handing me job offers" he said.

"Why not? You're strong" she remarked, thinking of his broad shoulders and biceps.

"I'm not black. I'm not white. People feel uncomfortable when they see me. Where should they put me? I don't fit in."

She suddenly stopped. He froze too.

"I'm sorry" she said, meaning it. "I'm sorry that my family treats you like vermin."

He grinned.

"That's how it is."

"Right."

She continued walking. James had fallen asleep. She absentmindedly bent down and stroked his forehead.

"Excited to have babies of your own?" Puck asked.

"No" she answered without thinking.

"No?"

"Not yet, anyway."

"And what does your beau say about that? The guy in the car?"

"I haven't told him" she confessed.

She hadn't told anyone.

"He's a bit older than you, isn't he?"

Quinn nodded.

"Yes."

"Do you love him?" Puck asked.

She gave him a look.

"No."

"But you're going to marry him?"

"Probably."

"Why?"

She smiled a sweet smile.

"That's how it is."

…

He took hold of her arm just as they reached the river bank. She shrugged him off instinctively. She had always hated feeling control and caged.

"I'm sorry" she said, not sure what she was apologizing for.

"No worries" he smiled.

"I just don't like people _holding _on to me."

"Why not?"

She shook her head, she didn't know. Maybe it was her father's hand on her neck, guiding her when she was a child that had made her feel like that.

"You're not like every other girl, are you?"

"'Course I am" she sighed.

He stopped again and she mimicked him. James had woken up but didn't scream. He just blinked up at them.

"You're special, Miss Quinn. I felt the first time I saw you checking me out."

She blushed.

"I wasn't checking you out!"

He winked at her.

"How did you find us?" she asked, to change the subject. "On the outskirts of nowhere."

"My father used to work here."

"Did he?"

She searched her memory for a white man called Puckerman but came up blank.

"He left when I was twelve, you wouldn't remember him."

"Was he…" she paused. "White?"

He gave her a long look, not of disgust or reprimand, but of something else.

"No" he said.

She wondered silently why her father hadn't mentioned that the son of one of the old workers had come back. He loved comparing their work ethics, complaining about the new generation laziness.

"Why did he leave?"

"Search me."

"What?"

"He left us, my mom and me."

She stared down at the ground.

"I'm sorry."

"Nah, it was a long time ago."

"Do you have his name?"

His face hardened slightly and she regretted pushing the subject.

"No" he said shortly.

Without saying anything else, he turned and walked away. She watched him leave, suddenly feeling incredibly lonely.

"Mama" James whispered.

"Yes" Quinn agreed. "We should get you back to your mama."

…

Grace was off on Sundays. When Quinn had been younger, she had hating having to unbraid her own hair, get undressed and go to bed by herself. Not that it was a hassle, but it was lonely. Judy had never told her a bedside story or brushed Quinn's teeth. So when Grace was gone, Quinn was alone. Tonight, Quinn felt like she was a kid again. Ever since Puck left her on the dirty road, she had felt strangely lonely. He had not come back to ask for a job. He might never come back. Quinn curled up in her bed and closed her eyes.

…

She barged into his chest as she went into the kitchen the next morning. Her forehead smashed into his ribcage and he made soft _umph _noise.

"Sorry" she mumbled.

"No worries, Miss Fabray" he said politely.

"What are yo…" she began, but stopped when she saw Carlton behind Puck.

The contrast between the short and robust Carlton, with his blond hair and grey eyes, and Puck, with his tan skin, dark hair and strong frame, was almost amusing. Two different types of men.

"I was treating Puckerman to some tea before his first day of work. Permanent job, that is" her brother-in-law smiled proudly, satisfied with himself.

"Here you go, sir" Grace said, handing Puck the tea.

It was the chipped cup that she used to drink out of. Not the nice china. Not even the half-nice china. Quinn felt embarrassed of her family.

"Thank you."

Quinn hovered awkwardly in front of him, not knowing exactly what to say or do. Carlton began talking about something, cotton or the weather or _whatever_ but she didn't listen. She stood so close to Puck that she could smell the faint smell of his sweat. It made her blush.

"Well, join me outside in five" Carlton finished, nudging Puck with his elbow.

Clearly, he had made up his mind that Puck was mostly white or he wouldn't have made that kind of friendly gesture. He left the kitchen, whistling cheerfully.

"So you got the job?" Quinn asked.

Puck took a big gulp of his tea.

"Yeah."

"When did you come back to ask for it?"

"This morning."

"Oh."

She poured herself a cup of coffee. Grace offered to make her sandwich but she shook her head and watched her maid leave the kitchen.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you yesterday" she said.

"Nah, it's okay."

"Okay."

His face was tanned and strong. She wanted to touch the bridge of his nose, run her fingers over his cheekbones, over his lips.

"What are you doing later?" he asked boldly.

"Why?"

"It's hot. I'm going swimming. Wanna come?"

She felt something that could have been described as butterflies in the pit of her stomach. It was so tempting to say yes, but she couldn't.

"Richard's taking me out" she said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"Right. Your fancy beau, eh?"

She rolled her eyes and looked down at her hands.

"When is he bringing you back? I bet he doesn't keep you that late."

She bit her lip.

"It's Monday, he has work tomorrow, so probably about nine."

"I work to eight thirty. Want me to wait for you?"

She dared to look him in the eye again. His gaze was challenging. She should say no. She had no reason to spend time with this man. She didn't know him. She had never had a friend who was a boy. She already had a boyfriend.

"Okay" she heard herself say.

"'Kay" he confirmed.

…

Richard's maid had made them dinner. It was the first time they weren't going out but staying in to eat. Richard's house was medium sized, sand colored and very clean. His maid was the sister of his mother's maid and had been with him since he left college. Quinn couldn't remember her name, maybe Richard had never told her.

"Your house is lovely" she said, because that was what you were supposed to say.

"Thank you" he said warmly.

He poured her a glass of white win and even though she usually didn't drink, it felt nice in her mouth. Richard emptied two glasses during the first course. That was more than she seen him drink before.

"Quinn, you really are the most beautiful woman I have ever met" he muttered into the table.

She smiled.

"Thank you."

"And I feel like you and me, we belong together" he went on, still staring down.

It sounded like a rehearsed speech.

"I like you too" she offered.

He smiled nervously and it was then that she understood. He was going to propose tonight. A cold shiver went down her spine. She wanted to run away but he grabbed her hand. His skin was clammy.

"I ask you, no, I mean, I'm asking you to marry me, Quinn Fabray."

He pronounced her last name wrong, _Fa-_bray. She had never thought in the past to correct him, thought it wouldn't matter. Now, it did. He was asking her to marry him and he couldn't even get her name right.

"Will you?" he urged her, squeezing her hand tight.

"Richard…"

She didn't how to continue. His eyes were a little glazed with alcohol but eager too. Like he couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life with her.

"I will take care of you" he went on, still sounding rehearsed. "'Til the day I die."

"Do you even have a ring?" she asked.

"Oh, right."

He dug inside his jacket pocket and pulled out the classic velvet box. He fumbled a few times before he got it opened. Quinn didn't that much about rings, but this one looked normal, like the one Franny had, maybe even nicer.

"Quinn, I love you" he said and she was quite certain that this was the first time he had ever told her that, maybe the first time he had told anyone.

"Do you?" she asked, doubtingly.

He nodded, holding up the ring to her. It glistened in the light of the lamps. His maid hovered in the doorway. Would she become Quinn's maid too?

"Can I… Can I think about it?" she asked, even though she had thought about since they first started dated.

Richard looked disappointed.

"What is there to think about?"

"I don't know."

"Quinn" he urged her. "What is there to think about?"

Yes, what was there to think about? She had always known she would end up here.

"You're right" she smiled.

"Is that a yes?" he asked.

She nodded. Suddenly she felt like crying. Richard grabbed her hand and placed the ring on her finger. It was too big. She would have to have it fitted.

"I love you" he told her again.

She nodded like she cared.

…

She got out of Richard's car half past nine. Before the car had disappeared around the bend, Puck appeared beside her.

"You're late" he grinned.

"Sorry" she mumbled absently.

"Still up for that swim?"

She swallowed. All she wanted was to curl up on her bed and cry. But then Puck extended his hand and touched her shoulder. She watched his hand on her skin with awe.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded.

"Yes."

"You look pale."

"Richard drove drunk. I feel a bit sick."

That wasn't a lie. None of it was. She felt like throwing up.

"It'll be nice with some cool water then."

"Right."

"Got everything you need?"

She nodded absentmindedly and followed him to his truck. It was rusty and old but she didn't care.

"Not as sweet as Richard's ride" he said, half-joking.

"I don't care about cars" she mumbled.

"Sure you're okay?" he asked again, his brow furrowed.

No.

"Yes."

"Okay then."

He started then engine and some country song filled the darkness. She tilted her hair back and closed her eyes.

"Tough night?" he asked.

"You have no idea."

…

"I forgot my bathing suit" she said.

Puck laughed.

"The only thing you needed to bring."

"I'm a bit out of it tonight."

She rubbed her temples and sat down on the bank.

"You could always swim nude" he suggested, smirking at her.

"You would like that, huh?"

He grinned and headed for the water. She watched him, suddenly annoyed for the darkness. She couldn't see his body properly. How did his bare chest look? Did he have a lot of hair, like Richard? Or was he completely smooth, like Carlton? He dove into the depths and she couldn't see him.

"Come on" he yelled. "It's so nice!"

"I bet" she called back.

God, what was she doing here? Alone, with a man she didn't know. What if he tried something, what if he raped her or murdered her? She was stupid.

"Just get in with your underwear on! It's dark for Christ's sake."

She was just going to call something scathing back but stopped herself. She was hot. She was nauseous. She wanted to be in the water. Why did she care if he saw her in her bra and panties? Before she could change her mind, she stripped out of her neat dress. She hovered for a millisecond, staring down at her ring, before she took it off and hid it in a pocket. _I don't want to lose it, _she told herself.

"I never thought you'd agree" Puck shouted as she felt the cold water against her feet.

"You shouldn't have prejudices about me then."

He stood with water to his waist. She ducked down and swam past him. He grabbed her leg and pulled her back. Quinn fought herself to the surface. Puck laughed. His laugh sounded like music. Like music she couldn't force out of her piano.

"You're not who everyone thinks you are, are you?" he asked, as she stood up next to him.

She could see every water drop on his chest now. Every muscle. Every hair. Everything.

"What do people think of me?" she asked, challenging him.

"That you're a stuck up, book worm that thinks she's too good for everyone" he replied, without hesitation.

Quinn raised her eyebrows.

"And what do you think of me?" she asked.

He licked his lips, looking her up and down. She quickly crossed her arms over her chest.

"I don't know yet" he said. "And that's so damn interesting."


	3. i'm not the one you need

Quinn woke up the next morning with her head aching so bad that she groaned out loud. Her throat hurt and her muscles felt weak. The flu. Wonderful.

"You shouldn't have gone for the swim last night, Miss Quinn" Grace muttered as handed Quinn a big bowl of chicken soup. "You shouldn't have gone swimming by yourself at all. Don't know what got into you."

"I was hot" Quinn whispered, tasting the soup she had had every time she had been sick.

"You have a fever, I can see it in your eyes."

"I know."

Grace shook her head disapprovingly. Quinn wondered how vigorously Grace would shake her head if she knew who Quinn had gone swimming with.

"Mr. Adams called for you. I said you were ill."

Quinn felt her inside grow cold despite the fever. She had hid his ring in her drawer, trying to repress its existence.

"What did he say?" she asked.

"Nothin' special. Wanted to take you out again, I guess."

"Right."

She recalled standing the lake, waist deep, staring into the dark eyes of Noah Puckerman. She closed her eyes, feeling ashamed of getting almost naked in front of him. He would talk of course, tell the workers that he had got her strip. The proposal had made her go crazy; that was the only reason she had done it.

"You looked flushed two minutes ago, Miss Quinn, and now you're white as a ghost."

Quinn forced a smile and took a big spoon of soup to distract herself.

"You should get some sleep."

"I will" she promised.

"You get better quickly, so Mr. Adams don't find no other girl to date."

Quinn snorted.

"I'll try, Grace."

She watched her maid leave the room and immediately sunk back into bed. Her joints ached but she reached up and opened the window. It was comforting to hear the noises from the plantation; the men talking, tractors roaring, Carlton screaming. Quinn closed her eyes tight. She wondered if they were talking about her; their boss's daughter in her panties, but before she could get too worried about it, she fell asleep.

…

"You're finally well enough to speak to me" Richard said happily though the phone.

It had been three days of endless sweating, coughing and headaches, but now she felt better.

"Yes" she said.

"I missed the sound of your voice."

She held in a sigh. They had gone longer than three days without speaking before. Was their feelings supposed to grow just because she had his ring? She didn't feel any different.

"Me too" she lied.

She hadn't missed him one bit. Frankly, she hadn't even thought about him that much. She had obsessed about the ring, holding it, and trying it on and taking it off, but Richard himself hadn't really crossed her mind.

"We have to take the ring to get re-sized" he said. "And begin planning for the wedding."

She suddenly felt very ill again. She wanted to bury herself under her comforter and forget about this wedding.

"Look" she began. "I haven't told my family yet."

"Oh."

"I've been sick and the timing hasn't been right."

"Okay."

"And Frannie's having a baby. I just don't want to steal the spotlight from her just yet."

"You are the most considerate person I have ever met" Richard sighed happily.

"Let's just… wait a few days with telling people. Please?"

"Sure. I haven't told my parents yet anyway."

Quinn exhaled with relief. She needed time to figure this out.

…

"Avoiding me?"

She jumped. Puck stood leaning against his truck, smoking a cigarette.

"I've been ill."

She looked away but she could still hear the smile in this voice.

"Me too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I've had a fever for days now. Come on, feel my forehead."

"No, thank you."

"Have you suddenly turned shy, Miss Quinn?"

"Don't call me that" she scoffed. "I think we passed that faze when you say me in my underwear."

"Oh" he said. "_That's _why you've been avoiding me!"

"I haven't… I've been ill" she insisted.

He bumped her arm.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, Miss Fabray. Nothing at all."

"Oh stop."

She finally dared to look at him. He was grinning, ear to ear. She immediately felt a tug in her stomach at the sight of him. She had pictured him so many times in her mind during the time she had been sick; but in real life he looked even better. _Lust_. That must be it, that must be what this felt like.

"I got sick from swimming in that lake" she said accusingly.

"Nah, that's not true. You get the flu from a virus, not being cold."

"How do you know?"

He smiled wryly.

"My mom's a nurse."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

He looked tired and Quinn suddenly felt guilty for being the spoiled brat she was; never having to work a day in her life. He must despite her for that.

"Anyway" she said swiftly. "I guess you told all the workers that you got me to strip."

"I don't kiss and tell, Quinn" he smirked.

"We didn't kiss!"

"Could have, you were standing so close and looking so longingly at my lips…"

She hit his arm.

"Shut _up_."

He raised one eyebrow as her cheeks turned red. She crossed her arms across her chest and backed off. He caught her arm.

"You were upset that night. I wasn't going to take advantage of that. I'm not that much of an asshole."

"Good to know" she huffed, shaking her arm free.

She turned her head and gazed back at the house. The yard was empty.

"'Fraid someone's gonna see us together?"

"Aren't you?"

"Not really."

"You could lose your job."

"For talking to you? Jesus, your daddy must be protective."

"I have a boyfriend."

"So you keep saying."

She rolled her eyes.

"I'm going now."

"Where?"

"To the church."

"To pray?"

"No, to play."

Frannie had a headache and warned Quinn not to touch a single key of the piano in their living room. Quinn was smart enough to not challenge her pregnant sister. She had a tendency to get even.

"What do you play?" he asked, dropping the sneering act for ten seconds.

"Piano."

"You any good?"

"I took lessons for twelve years."

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

She shrugged.

"I play the guitar. Taught myself in the army."

"Of course you did."

He smirked again.

"Can I come and hear you play?"

"No."

"Can I at least drive you there?"

She exhaled.

"Fine."

…

She played Beethoven first because she loved Beethoven. Who didn't? She'd played his music since she was eight and fell in love with it. Her teacher – or_ their_, Quinn and Frannie shared a teacher but Frannie was as musically talented as a mushroom – had played her Für Elise and Quinn had felt goose bumps all over her arms.

"You sound good" someone called.

She turned and quickly stopped playing. Puck was coming up the aisle, holding a battered guitar in one hand.

"What are you _doing _here?" she hissed, closing the piano lid.

"This is a white church, right? I'm white, partially anyway."

"I'm not talking about the color of your skin.I don't play in front of people."

He sat down next to her on the piano stool, nudging her side with his elbow. She moved a few inches away-

"Can you teach me?"

"To do what?"

"To play the piano."

"No."

"Why not?"

She sighed and got up.

"Why should I?"

"I can teach you the guitar" he smiled.

"I don't want to learn to play the guitar."

He stood up too and took two steps closer to her. The tips of his shoes touched hers.

"I'll give you a reason why you should teach me" he said.

"Fine."

He leaned in and kissed her. She was so shocked that she didn't move. His lips were hot and made her face burn. His hand cupped the back of her neck, extending the kiss a bit longer.

"Are you crazy?" she breathed, stepping away.

He shrugged, searching her face.

"Nope."

"I have a bo…"

"Boyfriend. Yeah, I've heard."

She touched her lips with her fingers. They still felt numb.

"I think you should leave" she whispered.

"Really? Do you really want me to leave?"

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She saw the ring in her mind. She was an engaged woman.

"No" she mumbled.

"Thought so."

He kissed her again and she kissed him back. He rubbed his thumbs over her collar bones, traced his fingers down her spine. She fought to keep upright.

"Teach me the piano?" he whispered against her lips.

"Okay" she whispered back.

…

"Play me something" he begged her.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't play for people."

"That seems pointless."

"Shut up."

He took her hands and placed them on the keys. She held them there, still. She still felt flushed from the kissing. She had never been kissed like that, the kind of kisses you could feel all over your body. The kind that made you tingle and sigh.

"Please" he begged.

So she played. She played Mozart for him, something easy, not to show off.

"Did you go to Vietnam?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"You said you learned to play the guitar in the army."

She still couldn't believe that she let him kiss her. She couldn't believe that she kissed him back. She couldn't believe she wants him to kiss her again. They're in a church for crying out loud. She should know better.

"Yeah. Went, came back."

"Why?"

"I got shot."

She stopped playing.

"_Shot_?"

"In the shoulder, it's fine now though."

"Where?" she asked.

He unbuttoned the buttons of his shirts, exposing a tan chest and an ugly scar on his shoulder. It was a wonder that she hadn't seen if before. She lifted her fingers and carefully touched the pink mark on his dark skin. She could feel him tense.

"I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's okay."

She was sure that it wasn't.

"I shouldn't have let you kiss me" she whispered.

"Probably not."

He smiled and she couldn't stop herself from smiling back. She felt like a little girl again.

"Can you drive me home?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Sure."

He held his hand on the small of her back as they left the church. His truck looked even uglier in daylight. She wondered if it was even safe to drive.

"I have never kissed someone I don't know before" she confessed.

"You haven't?"

"No. I've only kissed two boys. Franky McAllister who took me to prom. And Richard."

Puck closed her door and climbed into the driver's seat.

"You're your daddy's dream, eh?"

She snorted.

"Probably."

"I mean, you're smart, musically talented and beautiful like hell."

Quinn was used to being told she was pretty. It could even get boring hearing it and she never knew how to reply. But this time, she felt her cheeks burn. She stared straight ahead.

"All you have to do is marry some boring, rich white guy and you'll be set" Puck said sarcastically.

She kept her gaze on the road.

"Pretty much."

They stayed quiet until he parked outside the gates of her house. Quinn could see Grace in the kitchen, making dinner. Otherwise the house looked quiet. Maybe Carlton and Frannie had gone out.

"Can I see you again?" Puck asked.

Quinn rubbed her eyes.

"I'm still not sure about the piano thing…"

"It's okay. I mostly just wanted to hear you play anyway."

He fished out a pen from her purse and grabbed her hand. He wrote digits on her wrist.

"This is my number. I might not answer 'cause I'm at work, but if you wanna hang out – call me."

She nodded, knowing she would have to wash the numbers off as soon as she got in.

…

"Can we tell them soon?" Richard asked.

They sat at his favorite restaurant. She was having chicken, as usual. God, she was so tired of chicken.

"I don't know."

"Why not?"

He stared imploringly at her. She averted her eyes.

"I just…"

"You said yes, Quinn. You said that you wanted to be my wife."

"I _know_."

She felt the panic rise in the pit of her stomach. This was only the second time she had worn the ring; the only time since he had given it to her. It was still too big. If she went to get it re-sized, the gossip that Quinn Fabray had finally said yes to Richard would spread like wildfire.

"Is it the work thing?" he asked, tilting his head to one side. "If it's about that, you can work before we have children. I don't care."

"It's nothing" she said assured him, shaking her head.

"When can we tell people then?"

She swallowed.

"I'll tell my family tomorrow, first thing."

Richard's smile was so wide it made his face look funny.

"I love you" he told her.

"I love you too" she said.

He leaned across the table and placed a peck on her cheek.

"Kiss me" she begged him. "A real kiss."

"We're in a restaurant" he mumbled, looking around.

"Please."

Richard uncertainly stretched his neck and kissed her. She tried to feel something, she really did, but there was nothing.

"I can't wait until we're married" he mumbled.

Quinn took a big gulp of wine.

…

"Are you stalking me?" she asked as she saw Puck lurking in the hedges.

The lights of Richard's car had disappeared around the bend.

"You didn't call me."

She walked right passed him.

"I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"Kiss men that aren't Richard."

"Oh, so know you care about his feelings?"

"Yes."

Puck caught up with her. He hadn't shaved; it made him look older, grubbier, moodier, more good-looking.

"Look, Quinn. I don't want to _marry _you or shit."

"Just kiss me in churches?"

"Why not? We can both silently rebel against your father."

She shook her head. She could feel her hair coming loose out of the careful braid that Grace had done. Just like she was coming undone.

"I'm not the kind of girl that does that."

He took her hand, not her arm this time, but her hand. His palm was dry and warm. Quinn felt clammy.

"I thought you weren't like every other rich, fancy lady around here? Not stupid. Not the kind of girl who's goal in life is to get married."

"You know nothing about me" she smiled bitterly.

"I know you're good company. You play the piano. You're a good kisser."

"Shut up."

For the first time since she had met him, his face looked completely serious. Not a glint in his eye, not a crooked smile on his lips.

"Sorry to disappoint you" she mumbled and held up her left hand.

It took him a few seconds to understand what she was trying to show him. When he got it, he dropped her other hand. He raised one eyebrow and smiled an ironic smile.

"You're getting hitched then?"

"Yes."

"What's the rush? Did this guy knock you up?"

"What? _No. _God, my mama would kill me if I had slept with him before the wedding…"

"You're marrying this guy, who's ten years older than you, that you never slept with and that you don't seem to love at all."

"I do love him" she snapped. "And it doesn't matter how old he is. Or that we never…"

"Sex is a big thing. What if he sucks?"

"Shut up."

His face was hard. She wanted to slap him but she had never done it before and wasn't really sure how to do it.

"I thought you weren't stupid" he snarled.

"I thought you didn't want to marry me _or shit_" she said, challenging him.

He laughed.

"God, this is _not _about that. I'm just disappointed."

"About what?" she spat.

"That you're just like everyone else."

She shook her head, feeling anger and hurt boil in her blood.

"Leave me alone."

Puck grabbed her shoulders and pulled her closer. He pressed his lips onto hers, not passionately or carefully, but angrily and roughly. His stubble hurt her cheek.

"My pleasure."

…

Quinn flung herself on her bed, crying hot tears. She didn't really know why she was crying. Was it wedding jitters? Was it the terrible kiss that Richard had given her? Was it Puck's words about her being stupid? Or was it the kiss he had given her, who made her knees weak?

"Miss Quinn, what's wrong?" Grace whispered, stroking Quinn's shoulder.

"I've done something stupid, Gracie."

"Did you break it off with Mr. Adams?" Grace asked, sounding disapproving.

"No, no. I, I agreed to marry him."

Her maid let out a little scream of joy.

"Oh, miss Quinn, how wonderful."

She found Quinn's left hand and inspected the ring.

"It's too big but nice. We'll sort that out, darling, no need to cry."

"So you think I should marry him?" Quinn whispered against her pillow.

Grace giggled.

"Golly, yes. 'course."

Quinn sat up and looked into the face of the person who had taken care of her since she was a baby. She found some reassurance in the wrinkles around Grace's eyes.

"I don't love him, Grace. I've tried, I really have. But I don't and I don't think I ever will."

"Then you try harder, Miss Quinn."

"I can't."

Grace took a deep breath.

"You were always more difficult than Frannie. She would accept anything that was given to her, chocolate or vanilla ice cream, she didn't care. But you would only eat strawberry flavored, only that."

"So you're saying I'm spoiled?"

"No, you're picky."

"Same thing."

"Richard Adams is a good man, darling. He might not be strawberry flavored ice cream, but he's a very good vanilla or a splendid chocolate."

"I should learn to settle for vanilla then?"

"There's nothing wrong with vanilla" Grace said, patting Quinn's arm.

…


	4. everything

"Mama" Quinn said quietly.

Her mother was smoking a cigarette at the kitchen table and reading some magazine.

"Yes, dear?" she asked without real interest.

"Richard and I… We're engaged."

A scream behind Quinn made her jump. Frannie had sneaked into the kitchen soundlessly and overheard Quinn's confessing.

"Finally" Judy Fabray said, getting up and kissing Quinn's cheek.

"Oh My GOD!" Frannie flailed, holding one hand on her heart. "Quinn, this is such good news!"

"What?" Carlton asked, entering the room through the back door.

"Rich asked Quinny to marry him!"

"That's great" Carlton said.

They all looked happy and gleeful and _relieved. _Quinn stared at all their faces. Her mother looked proud. Quinn couldn't remember a time when Judy had looked proud of anything Quinn had done before. Valedictorian in High School? No. College graduation? No. But this, just saying yes and getting a ring, that got her praise.

"You _have _to wait until I have the baby" Frannie said seriously. "I don't want to look like whale in the wedding pictures."

"Maybe you'll fit into my old dress" Judy exclaimed, clapping her hands.

"You can have the same band we did" Carlton said.

Quinn swallowed. Her head began spinning and she had to grab the counter to steady herself.

"I'm getting married" she whispered.

Frannie took her hand and squeezed it.

"Yes, baby, yes you are."

…

It all snowballed from there so fast. The ring got resized to fit Quinn's finger perfectly. Mrs. Fabray and Richard's mother quickly became fast friends over the telephone. Friends and family called Quinn to say congratulations. They all praised her choice in men, saying that Richard was the perfect man for her. Quinn scowled when she heard that. Was she boring and plain too?

"We have to find you a dress" Judy said over and over.

"There's no hurry" Quinn insisted. "We're not getting married until Frannie has the baby."

"And has time to lose the baby weight" her sister agreed. "I would say April."

"It will take you eight minutes to try my old dress on, Quinn" Judy snapped. "It's a family dress, my mother wore it before me. It's a tradition for the ladies of our family to wear it."

Frannie hadn't, though. Quinn remembered the day her sister had tried the dress on and nearly torn the zipper. They had all blamed the fabric but Frannie had cried for days.

"I'll get it" Judy decided.

Quinn sunk down on her bed. Since the engagement, both her sister and her mother had intruded on her privacy. They used to never visit her room but now they knocked on the door as often as Grace did.

"You'll look great in that dress" Frannie told her, which was big of her since Quinn knew how much she had wanted to wear it.

"Thanks."

Frannie sat down on Quinn's bed too. She was really showing now, nearly five months pregnant.

"Frans, what did you feel when Carlton proposed to you?" Quinn asked carefully.

"Oh my god, I was so relieved. I thought he'd never ask!"

"But you had only been dating for a few months. How did you know that you loved him enough to marry him?"

Frannie smiled dreamily.

"I just knew. He was handsome and smart. We could have waited with marriage of course, but he needed a job and I knew that daddy would give him one here at the plantation."

"Right."

"And, I mean, there's only so long a girl can keep her knickers on, if you know what I mean. I wanted to be his in every way and I knew I had to be married to do that."

Quinn made a grimace.

"So you got married Carlton so he could get a job and you get laid?"

Frannie laughed and nudged Quinn's shoulder.

"You're so funny, darl. I don't know why people call you cold."

Before Quinn could ask who called her that, Judy was back with the dress. Quinn remembered it well. It was very plain, lace with long sleeves, high neckline and almost reached her feet. The kind of dress that catholic ladies wore in Italy.

"Mommy, it's beautiful" Frannie mumbled, carefully running her fingers over the fabric.

"Let's see how it fits, eh, Quinny?"

"Fine."

She stripped out of her sundress and with her mother's help, pulled the frail dress over her head. It was rough against her skin, too tight over her bust and a bit big over her hips

"I'm going to cry" Frannie whispered.

Judy smoothed the fabric and as usual told Quinn to stand up straighter.

"You have to wear this one" she decided. "You look just like my mother on her wedding day."

Quinn finally turned to look in the mirror. She looked like, like fly in a spider web. There was no other way to describe it. She opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind. It didn't really matter what she wore.

"Rich is going to _faint _when he sees you in that" Frannie whispered.

"I hope not" Quinn mumbled.

"Now, take it off" Judy instructed her. "I don't want you to rip it."

Quinn stole a second look at herself in the mirror. She looked scared.

…

The friends that Quinn hadn't seen in weeks, called her again. They wanted to go to the lake for the last swim of the summer or to the club for drinks or just hangout. It seemed like she was normal again, just like they were. Engaged or married. Not talking about her degree or working.

"I wish I could get married again" Rachel sighed.

"Me too" Brittany agreed.

"I don't really get the fuss" Quinn sighed, bored to death because all they talked about all day was weddings. "It's just a big party, like fundraiser."

"Oh, honey. No" Rachel cried, grabbing Quinn's arm. "You can't say that."

"But talking about fundraisers" June said. "Michael bought me a new dress for the one this weekend."

"Oh, how wonderful. What color is it?"

"Who are we saving this weekend?" Brittany asked.

"We're collecting money to send to our boys overseas" Rachel explained.

She saw herself as an insider in this particular benefit since her cousin was a soldier. Quinn didn't mind Rachel going on and on about the fear she felt. No one bothered her anymore about feeling the _love_.

"What are you wearing, Q?" Olivia asked.

"I don't know. I haven't actually thought about it yet" she admitted.

"Wedding brain" Rachel giggled. "We all had it."

Quinn smiled too, hoping it looked like an agreeing smile.

"Maybe Richard will buy you something too" June suggested. "All you have to do is give him a nudge."

"I don't think Richard would understand a nudge."

They giggled again. Quinn inspected their faces. They all looked the same. Not esthetically, of course. Brittany was tall and blond, Rachel small and dark and the twins June and Olivia had reddish hair and light skin. But their faces. They looked happy, all of them. Content. Maybe that was what marriage did to someone. Or maybe love. Or maybe they were all pretending.

"I need to go home" Quinn said.

In the car, Quinn broke down. She stopped just off the road and buried her head in her hands. Panic rushed through her veins. She couldn't marry him. She couldn't feel like this all her life. Why had she said yes? Why had she agreed to go out with him in the first place? Why hadn't she taken her bags at college graduation and left for Atlanta or Jackson or even New York? Anywhere but here.

…

Richard took her hand and led them into the ballroom. Quinn smelled the normal smell of these benefits, flowers, cheese and wine. It was the first time she came here with someone other than her family. The first time she wouldn't sit at the Fabray table between Frannie and her father. This time, she would sit with Richard and his parents.

"You look beautiful" he whispered as he held out the chair for her.

"Thank you."

"Hello again, Quinn" Mrs. Adams smiled.

"Hello" Quinn said to both his parents.

Her dress was a bit tight. She hadn't worn it since high school and despite her own doubts, she seemed to have gained a bust since then. Frannie had insisted that the dress made her look skinny. Quinn thought she looked almost bony.

"It's lovely to have you at our table" Mrs. Adams said.

"Thank you, Ma'am."

The food was served but Quinn wasn't hungry. The more she looked around, the more of her future she saw. Every family at every table looked the same. A silver haired patriarch, a roundish wife, a few children, their husbands or wives. They wore similar clothes and the same makeup.

"Have you ever traveled, Mr. and Mrs. Adams?" she asked.

"Traveled?"

"Yes."

"Well, I've been to Jacksonville twice for work" Mr. Adams said.

"How about you, Mrs. Adams?"

"Oh no, Quinn, I've never been outside Arkansas."

Quinn nodded. She had suspected that.

"I would love to go to Paris though" Richard's mother smiled.

"Me too" Quinn said. "The Louvre and…"

"No, dear, I mean Paris, Texas. I've heard it's a lovely town."

Quinn took a deep breath and went back to her salad. She felt the panic rise inside again but she couldn't cry here.

"What about the president?" she said cheerfully. "I heard he's coming down to Little Rock for a speech."

Mrs. Adams clapped her hands and Quinn for a second got hope that they could have conversation about politics

"I hope he's bringing Jackie with him!"

"What do you think about the president, Mr. Adams?" Quinn tried again.

"Huh?"

"Our president, sir."

"I'm sure he's a nice fellow."

Quinn nodded. She lifted her glass of wine and took a small sip.

"Are you okay?" Richard whispered.

"Sure" she said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

….

"How many children do you want?"

"What?"

Richard was driving her home.

"How many kids? I guess we never really talked about it before."

"I don't know" she mumbled.

"I would love to have four. Always wanted a big family, me."

Quinn snorted.

"Four deliveries? Sure, why not?"

He didn't understand the sarcasm. They were outside her gate now and he parked the car. He leaned in and kissed her.

"I can't wait for you to be my wife" he whispered.

She wondered if he had sex before. Probably. Men didn't have to wait until marriage anymore. Most women didn't either, outside the South anyway.

"April 14th" she said, gently pushing him off him. "You'll have to wait 'til then."

He made a pained face.

"You're just so beautiful."

"Thank you."

He tried to kiss her again but she slipped out of the car. He followed and pulled her close.

"We're engaged now, baby. I think we can kiss."

She couldn't come up with an argument why not so she let him kiss her for five minutes. She felt nothing. No heat. No shudders. It was, boring.

"I love you" he breathed hotly onto her neck.

"I love you too" she mumbled.

She watched him drive off, waving absently at his taillights.

"Should say congratulations, I guess" a voice spoke out of the dark.

Puck lit a cigarette, illuminating his face out of the darkness. Her face turned hot, thinking about how he had watched her kiss her fiancée.

"Leave me alone" she snapped.

"Whatever."

…

"When Quinn moves out, can we make her room into a nursery for Jamie and his sibling?" Frannie asked during dinner. "Because you and Rich aren't going to live here, are you?"

"No" Quinn said sternly. "He has a house."

Carlton and Frannie still lived in the Fabray house, they had little wing to themselves. It was just easier, everyone agreed, since Frannie became pregnant so quickly after the wedding and might need help with the baby, and with Carlton working on the plantation. Quinn had never pictured living with her husband in this house, but she had never pictured herself living somewhere else either. She might not be able stand her family, but she loved the house. It was the oldest in the area and in Quinn's opinion, the nicest. It had survived the Civil War, seeing many of its neighbors born to the ground. And Quinn loved her room. It had been her grandmother's, whom had died the same year the Quinn was born. Judy and Russell already had a bedroom so they gave the beautiful room with all the windows to their daughter.

"That would be lovely" Judy said, patting Frannie's hand.

"We'll have to change the wallpaper though" Carlton snickered. "My boy ain't going to have tulips on his walls."

Quinn swallowed. She loved the roses, not tulips, that covered her bedroom walls. When she was a kid, she used to run her fingers over the petals, almost smelling their scent.

"My mother chose that paper" Russell muttered.

Carlton swallowed.

"I mean, it's great…"

"Let's just see if it's a boy or a girl first, honey" Frannie said.

"I can feel that it's a boy" Carlton smiled. "Carlton Jr."

Quinn wanted to gag.

"This will be your last Christmas living here" Judy told Quinn.

"Yes."

"We'll make it special."

Quinn nodded.

"Okay."

Grace brought them the dessert. On her way out, she squeezed Quinn's shoulder.

…

In the end, she found his number. It wasn't hard, she just went into her father's study and found Noah Puckerman's job application. She copied the digits onto her wrist, just like he had. Without hesitation she called.

"Hello?" she heard a voice, a girl.

Quinn didn't know what to say. She kept her mouth shut and closed her eyes. Who was this girl?

"Hello?" the girl said again before hanging up.

Quinn stood with the receiver in her hand for almost ten minutes before putting it down. She wanted to apologize. That was it, she told herself. It didn't matter if he had a girl there. She could still apologize. Again she pressed in the digits. This time, he answered.

"San? What did you forget this time?" he asked jovially.

"Hi" Quinn whispered.

"San?"

"No, it's me, Quinn Fabray."

He chuckled.

"I never thought this day would come."

"Shut up" she said. "I wanted to say sorry, for, uh, telling you to shut up the other day."

Puck chuckled some more. Hearing his voice calmed her. She sat down on her bed.

"Don't worry, Miss Fabray, girls have told me to do worse things."

"Like what?" she asked, sidetracked.

He snickered.

"You're too much of a good girl. I don't want to ruin you."

She actually cracked a smile.

"I'm sorry too" he said. "Shouldn't have called you stupid. You're the one with the college degree after all."

"It's okay. It was stupid."

"Getting engaged?"

"Yeah."

"You broke it off?"

"No."

He snickered.

"Are you?"

"Probably not."

"Right…"

She bit her lip, not knowing how to proceed.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Not really."

Suddenly she felt the burning sensation of tears in her throat again. She clamped her eyes shut, trying to keep it in.

"I'm trapped" she whispered.

"Do you mean literally or figuratively?"

She smiled and the relaxation in her muscles made the tears leak out of eyes.

"Not literally, I guess."

"Great. Mom made some chicken but she's working the night. Wanna come over and share it with me?"

Quinn had already eaten dinner. She was tired, her face felt blotchy and red.

"Yes" she said. "Thank you."

"Sure. Do you have a car?"

"Yes."

…

Puck's house wasn't big but neat. It had big room that was used a kitchen, dining room, living room and bedroom for Puck's mother. His room was in one end of that big room, the bathroom in the other.

"Not like your mansion" he said, almost embarrassed as she stepped in.

She said nothing. The house smelled of home cooked food and where Judy hang paintings by semi-famous painters, Mrs. Puckerman had photographs. Puck was in most of these, small in a diaper, pimply and embarrassed at 13 or 14, tall and proud in his army uniform. There was no pictures of his father.

"You want some chicken then?"

"Yes, please."

"God, you're polite."

He looked relaxed in his own kitchen, she realized. He wore faded blue jeans and white sweater that look as soft as fur. She felt stiff in her ironed dress.

"What do you think about the president?" she asked bluntly.

He raised his eyebrows.

"I like him, he seems like a good man, a man who wants to change this country."

"And his wife?"

"His wife?"

Quinn smiled.

"Have you ever traveled?"

"Well, I've lived all over the south. The construction company I used to work with had us doing jobs in Austin and Jackson and all the way up to Charlotte. And then, yeah, I went to Vietnam."

He subconsciously touched his shoulder with his fingers, the bullet wound.

"Where would you like to go?" she asked.

"What is this, Quinny, 20 questions?" he smiled.

"No, I just... I don't know. Sorry."

"Nah, it's fine. I just don't have much to say about these things."

"Neither have I" she admitted. "Never been further than Little Rock."

"Never?"

"No."

"Where'd you like to?"

"New York" she answered a bit too quickly. "I would really like to go to New York."

He clinked her glass with his.

"Let's hope Richard takes you there on your honeymoon then."

Quinn swallowed hard. The anxiety made its way back into her stomach at the mention of his name. Puck saw it.

"Why are you going to marry him?" he asked, tilting his head to one side.

"Because, that's what they want."

"Who?

"Everyone."

"What about you?"

She felt a single tear fight its way out of the corner of her eye.

"I want to go to New York."

"I know."

"And they're all so stupid. No, not stupid. Ignorant. They don't care about the world. Nothing outside Arkansas is important."

"_All of them_?"

"My family, my friends, my future husband."

"What about me? Finished High School by chatting up the vice principal on graduation day. Never been to college. Am I stupid too?"

"You care about the world, don't you? You've been to war."

He nodded. She nodded too.

"I'm sorry" she mumbled. "I know I'm being… impossible."

"You're not" he assured her. "And you can cry, you know. It's not against the law."

"I'm tired of crying."

"Let's eat then."

She nodded and took her first bite of chicken. It tasted a thousand times better than the one Richard used to order for her.

…

"I will never marry" he said.

"Why not?"

"I'm not the marrying kind."

"Says who?"

"Every girl I've ever dated."

"Ouch."

"Yeah."

She snuggled up on his couch, holding a cup of tea between her hands. Puck was strumming his guitar, she could make out small fragments from several songs.

"How many have you dated?" she asked.

"Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"On what you count as _dating?_"

She raised her eyebrows.

"I would say, that you gone out on more than one day."

"Then, none."

He smiled peevishly and played the intro chords to a Johnny Cash song, maybe _Big River_.

"How many have you slept with then?"

"Oh, that was a direct question."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"You don't have to answer."

"Frankly, I don't know."

"Right."

She pictured him leading girls through the living room, towards his bed. Tall and dark and mysterious.

"There has been one girl though. She's the one who pesters the most about how she will never marry me. I've known her since she was a kid."

Quinn nodded.

"Do you like her?"

"Yeah, sure. And hate her to death. Depends on the day."

"What's her name?"

"Santana Lopez."

_San. _The girl who he had thought had forgotten something. The girl who had answered the phone.

"I think you'd like her. She's very, uhm, interested in the world. Going to scream at poor Mr. Kennedy in Little Rock next week."

"Is she?"

"Yep."

Puck looked proud.

"Sings good too. I learned the play guitar mostly because she wanted me to. And because I was bored out of my mind in 'Nam."

"How romantic" Quinn said, hating hearing the edge to her voice.

"Nah. Not really. Just wanted to make her happy."

"That sounds like love" Quinn interjected.

"Really?" Puck asked, doubtingly. "What more does love sound like?"

Quinn shrugged.

"I wouldn't know. I've never loved anyone."


	5. someone to open each and every door

Quinn watched as the nice nurse measured Frannie's round tummy. She wrote numbers down on her chart while Frannie promptly looked away.

"I don't want to know how fat I am" she explained even though no one had asked.

"You're not fat, Mrs. Barton. You're pregnant" the nurse said, with a slight edge to her voice.

She was in her late forties or early fifties with dark hair and fair skin. Her experienced hands worked their way over Frannie's body, inspecting her back, chest and abdomen.

"Everything looks fine" she assured Frannie.

"My sister is getting married in April. Do you think I'll be able to lose the baby weight until then?"

The nurse smiled tiredly.

"I don't know, Mrs. Barton. I'm here to make sure your baby is healthy. I don't know nothing about diets."

Frannie pouted at her swollen stomach.

"I don't think my husband thinks I'm attractive anymore."

"Come on" Quinn sighed. "You're carrying Carlton's baby. Of course he thinks you're pretty."

Quinn herself had never understood the appeal of Carlton Barton. He was big mouthed and a know-it -all and notoriously racist, but Frannie loved him to bits, despite her confession that she had married him mostly because she wanted to have sex. Maybe love could grow. Maybe Quinn shouldn't worry about feeling nothing for her fiancée.

"How's little James?" the nurse asked, changing the subject.

"Fine" Frannie said, her eyes gleaming again. "He's a perfect little boy. Do think this one is a boy too? My husband would really like another boy."

"I don't know, ma'am. We'll just have to wait and see, yes?"

"Yes" Frannie muttered glumly.

"Come on, Fran" Quinn sighed. "I'll buy you ice cream now that you behaved so well during your doctor's visit."

"Not ice cream. I don't want to get _fatter_."

Quinn sighed loudly, took her sisters arm and lead her out of the examination room.

"You're not really worried about Carlton, are you?"

"A bit."

"You shouldn't. He doesn't care how you look, you're going to give him another baby. He would worship your feet for that."

Frannie sniffled as they made their way into the elevator. She clutched Quinn's hand.

"You should have one too. You and Rich. We could have play dates and…"

"I'm not ready for that yet, Fran" Quinn interrupted.

"You can help me then, help me look after this one."

"Sure."

"I'm sure it's a girl. I can feel it" Frannie hissed.

"Well, that's great. One of each, perfect, eh?"

"I don't think Carlton will think so…"

Quinn sighed again.

"Frannie, frankly, I think Carlton cares more about football than he does your babies."

She held her breath, waiting for Frannie to explode with rage, but she didn't.

"I hope your right" she sniffled.

Quinn had never felt emotionally further away from her sister.

…

"What did you do today?" Richard asked, across the table.

Quinn swallowed a bite of chicken (god, she was sick of that chicken) and smiled.

"I took Frannie to the hospital for a pregnancy check up."

"Did you like the doctor?"

Quinn shrugged.

"There was only a nurse there, she was nice enough. Why?"

"We want the best for our children. Maybe Frannie can give the name of her doctor."

Quinn closed her eyes and kept them closed for almost ten seconds. She didn't want children, had never wanted them, not yet. She was barely grown up.

"There's no rush" she mumbled.

"What do you mean?" Richard asked, confused.

"I mean, we're not going to have children anytime soon anyway. Frannie's doctor might move away or retired or whatever, before we're ready."

He cleared his throat and gave Quinn a look that reminded her of her father.

"I'm ready."

"Well, you're not the one that has to carry it for nine months and nurse it for eighteen years" Quinn scuffed, hating how inferior that look made her feel.

"I'm not getting any younger."

"I'm too young."

He stared at her, she stared back. Their first argument. In public.

"You're twenty two!"

"That's my point."

He took a deep breath.

"Let's discuss this later."

"Let's not" she muttered.

She put her silverware down, not feeling hungry anymore.

…

"Why haven't you said anything about not wanting children before?" Richard asked, as they sat in his car outside Quinn's gate.

He had drunken a lot of wine and was finally brave enough to confront her. She was in a bad mood and ready to defend herself to the death. It wasn't a promising outlook.

"You never asked me" she snapped. "And I never said I didn't want kids, I just don't want them now."

"What are you going to do instead?" he asked, almost smirking, Quinn never thought Richard could smirk. "_Work_?"

"There's nothing wrong with working."

"People will talk" he stated, not looking at her. "They'll say something's wrong with me."

"They won't" she argued.

He was right though, she realized that. Frannie had delivered baby Jamie almost exactly nine months after her wedding. Rachel and Finn had started trying on their honey moon. It would be odd if Quinn didn't start buying diapers directly after the ceremony.

"I'm older than you, they'll think I can't give you children" Richard murmured, sounding like a little boy.

"Who cares what people think?" she snapped.

Which was a bit rich coming from her, who was marrying a man so that her family would be happy. She realized that but was too angry to care.

"This is important to me" he told her.

She crossed her arms and stared out into the night.

"Why doesn't it matter what I think?" she asked.

"You're being selfish" Richard mumbled.

"You're being an idiot" she retorted.

She opened the door and slammed it shut behind her. He drove off before she had stepped out of the way properly. She watched his tail lights and realized that for the first time, she actually felt something for Richard. Too bad that it wasn't love.

…

She poured coffee into the battered cup she found in one of the cabinets. Puck was watching TV, his head cocked to one side. The president was speaking, saying something about equal rights. A black man had started at a white college in Mississippi.

"You had a fight then?" Puck asked, muting the TV.

"Our first" she said with faked glee.

"What was it about?"

She shrugged, cupping her hands tighter around the sturdy cup. It was weird sitting on his couch, talking about her life.

"He wants us to have kids."

"Don't you?"

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"I'm not the motherly type."

He grinned.

"Just like I'm not the marrying kind?"

She smiled too.

"Yes, something like that."

He leaned back on the couch, his shoulder touching hers. His heat radiated into her arm and made its way through her veins.

"Where's your mother?"

"Working, again. Poor soul. I tell her that I should support her now, but no, she's impossible."  
>"Maybe she likes working" Quinn mumbled.<p>

He nudged her hip.

"It'll work out, Quinn" he said, almost seriously.

"How do you know?" she asked, almost jokingly.

"I don't. Who does? I'm just trying to make you feel better."

She rolled her eyes.

"Frannie thinks Carlton will divorce her if she isn't skinny two weeks after giving birth."

"Carlton's a moron" Puck drawled. "And no one gets divorced here. This is Arkansas."

"She's too good for him" Quinn sighed. "And she's an idiot."

Puck laughed and she couldn't help but grin. She loved watching his chest heave with laughter. She wanted to touch it. Feel his soft skin against hers.

"Thank you for inviting me over" she said politely, getting up to leave.

He pulled her down again.

"You invited yourself" he said, smirking. "If you come knocking on my door at 10:45…"

"Shut up" she snapped.

He grinned and kissed her. She kissed him back, she wasn't surprised or confused by his action, she had waited for it all night.

"Where does your mama think you are?" he whispered against her jaw.

"Out with Richard, I suppose" she whispered back, feeling how every thought flitted through her brain and then disappeared.

Puck gently lowered himself over her, making her lay down on her back on the couch. He kissed every part of her face, she ran her hands over his shoulders, his back, his neck. Quinn didn't think for once. She let all instincts guide her as she tugged on Puck's shirt until he pulled it off. His chest was still tan despite the fall's chill, the hairs on his stomach were soft and dark. She stroked every muscle carefully.

"You don't think I'm hot at all, do you?" Puck breathed into her ear.

"You're disgusting" she mumbled, kissing his shoulder.

"Thought so."

His hands disappeared under her dress and began stroking her skin. She stopped moving and let his fingers caress her stomach under all that fabric.

"Take if off" he hissed.

"I can't" she mumbled.

"Why not?"

"It's too much."

He didn't protest, but stole a glance at his watch.

"My mom's going to be home soon. You'd better leave."

She swallowed, not sure if she should feel hurt or not. Her dress was wrinkled, her hair was a mess.

"Right" she mumbled, standing up.

Puck took her cup to the sink. He looked disheveled too.

"Bye" she said.

He raised his hand in farewell.

…

"Where have you been?" Russell asked, as Quinn opened the front door

She assumed that everyone would be asleep. Seeing her father, fully dressed and with a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, made her jump.

"Out with Richard" she mumbled, trying to pass him.

She felt, if possible, even worse than she had a few hours ago. Puck throwing her out hadn't been the best medicine for her blues.

"I saw Richard drop you off two hours ago" her father said, blocking the way into the kitchen.

"I needed to think" she said honestly.

"About what?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Her father relaxed. He took a deep breath and held out the cigarette to Quinn. She shook her head.

"That was always your problem, Quinn" he muttered. "You think too much."

"You're probably right."

She slipped past him and up the stairs. Grace had left a sandwich on the nightstand but Quinn wasn't hungry. She pulled the covers over her head and bit her lip hard to keep herself from crying.

…

Richard didn't call her for a week and she certainly didn't call him either. She never had. She didn't even know his number, maybe didn't even have it written down. That, if something, showed her commitment to their engagement. Actually, Quinn didn't bother not talking to Richard. She didn't miss that horrible chicken or the way he drove after a few glasses of wine or him, at all. If it wasn't for Frannie constantly pestering her about why he wasn't calling, Quinn might have forgotten him.

"People fight, Frannie" Quinn sighed.

"You shouldn't fight! You should be madly in love!"

"You know I'm not madly in love with Richard" Quinn said honestly.

Frannie pulled a face.

"I wish you were. He's such a nice guy."

"He is."

"And I think, that you will love him. Soon."

"Right."

"He loves you."

"I don't think he does, Fran."

Frannie was sorting baby-clothes into piles, what she was going to give away to an orphanage and what Jamie's sibling would inherit. She carefully stroked a pair of socks, smelling them, before putting them in the keep pile.

"Babies" she sighed. "Babies make me love everything more."

"There's a word for that. Hormones."

Frannie smiled serenely.

"No, not like that. Jamie made me love Carlton so much more. It brought us together in a way that I never knew existed."

Quinn picked up the sock too. To her it was just a piece of fabric, soft and nice, but that was it.

"I'm not you, Frannie. I don't love people" she mumbled.

Her sister laughed.

"Don't be so cynical, honey."

"Can't help it at this point."

Quinn cleared her throat. She couldn't believe that she was talking about this with Frannie. Of all people. And no, Frannie didn't get it, but that wasn't her fault. She was just different, she was naïve and pregnant and in love. All the things that Quinn wasn't and probably never would be.

…

"You should come with me to this bar tonight" Puck said.

She jumped and dropped her book onto the wet grass. He picked it up.

"Hello to you too" she snapped, drying _Wuthering Heights_ on her rain coat.

"You had your nose in that book, I was waving."

"Sure you were."

She was in a bad mood. Carlton and Frannie had hosted a dinner party last night and Quinn had sat quiet during the whole thing. Richard had tried to talk but she wasn't ready to make nice. Maybe that was a sign of immaturity but she didn't care. That would only speak in her favor. She couldn't have a baby and still act like a kid.

"So, you busy tonight or you wanna come with me?"

"Are we speaking? I thought you didn't want to see me after you _threw _me out that other day."

She carefully masked all tones of hurt into irritation. He raised one eyebrow.

"Did you wanna met my mom or what?

"You _threw _me out."

"You didn't want me to touch you."

She opened her mouth to retort but shut it with a snap. She shouldn't discuss this with him now, in her own driveway.

"Whatever."

"Yeah" he smirked. "Whatever. You wanna come with me tonight?"

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"A bar, outside of town. It's scruffy and you might wrinkle your nose - just like you're doing right now – but there's some people there that I think you'd like to meet."

"Why?" she asked.

"They care. About the world and shit."

Puck smiled, showing off his teeth and his full lips. She almost smiled back, out of reflex, but was able to control her features.

"Okay" she sighed. "But I'll drive. Your truck looks like it will fall apart any second."

Puck winked at her.

"Great. Pick me up at seven."

…

Quinn didn't know what to wear to a _bar_. She had never been to one before. And if Puck called it scruffy by his standards, it would probably be a dump by hers. She should probably wear a pair of torn jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt, but she wasn't raised that way and didn't even own a pair of torn jeans. In addition, if she left the house looking like a tramp, her mother would ask questions. So Quinn settled on a dark blue dress, long-sleeved and comfortably. She had had it for ages and if you looked carefully, the hem was a bit torn. That was the closest she could come to dressing like Puck.

"Where are you going?" Judy asked as Quinn applied mascara to her lashes.

"Out with some friends."

"In that dress? Isn't it a bit… casual?"

"I'm just going to Rachel's house" Quinn lied. "Going to help her with some baby stuff."

"Oh, say hello from me!"

"Sure."

It was unnerving how easy it was to lie.

"I might be home late, though."

"Okay, honey. Just remember to lock the door after you when you come home."

Quinn nodded, turned and almost knocked into Grace. Her face was skeptic and Quinn averted her eyes. Judy might be stupid enough to believe a lie, but Grace wasn't.

"Isn't Mrs. Hudson away with her husband this weekend?" she asked when Judy has disappeared down the stairs.

"Change of plans" Quinn said.

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

…

"Is this it?" Quinn asked, parking the car and staring at the small house. "It doesn't even have a sign."

Puck laughed.

"_It doesn't even have a sign"_ he echoed.

"Shut up" she snapped and got out of the car.

Two guys stood outside, smoking. They leered at her and mumbled something to each other. Her car was the nicest in the parking lot by several miles. Puck's had probably been the nicest one too. She could hear music from the building, ragged and deep country that she didn't like.

"This is a bad idea" she said quickly.

"Nah, come on. Can't judge a book by its cover, eh? Don't they teach you that in college?"

"I don't fit in" she mumbled, suddenly feeling like fourteen again. "My dress had pleats."

Puck only laughed again. She swallowed.

"Is this some kind of trick? Some kind of trick to make me look like a fool?" she snapped, feeling her heart beat fast.

He stopped smiling and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Come on, Q. I thought you were sick of your old crowd."

She shrugged his arm off. He sighed and removed his jean jacket and held it out for her. She took it uncertainly.

"What do you want me to do with this?" she asked.

"Wear it. Hide those pleats until you feel safe" he grinned.

She rolled her eyes but put the jacket on. It was too big and probably made her look like an idiot, but it smelled nice so she kept it on.

…

The bar was a dump. A crowded dump. When Puck stepped in, people cheered him in greeting. The first thing that struck Quinn (and she hated that it was the first thing) was how blacks and whites sat together, almost in each other's laps to fit. The other thing she noticed was the heat. Outside, it was chilly but inside it was terribly hot. She wished she was brave enough to take the jean jacket off.

"Puckerman! Haven't seen you in a while?" a man called.

He was Puck's age and sat in the heart of the room.

"Been busy" Puck called back.

They made their way to the table and Puck found them both chairs. There were already eight people around the cramped table. Five were boys of various shapes and colors. Three were white, one was black and one looked like something in between, like Puck. Two of the girls were white and the last one looked Hispanic. Quinn didn't dare to examine them closer.

"You brought a friend" the first boy said.

"Yeah" Puck said, making some kind of hand gesture towards the bartender. "This is Quinn."

The Hispanic girl made a face. Quinn felt her cheeks burn. She wanted to go home.

"How ya doing, Quinn?" the boy asked, shaking her hand rather formally. "I'm Brian."

"Nice to meet you" she mumbled.

"This is Mike, Matt, Artie and Shane" Brian said, gesturing to his friends.

"Aren't you going introduce us?" a girl asked, nudging Brian's arm.

"Fine" he said, kissing her cheek. "This is my girlfriend Kendra."

"The only one he cares about" the other white girl sighed. "Hi Quinn, I'm Emma. And this is Santana."

Santana. _San_. The girl who Puck had learnt to play the guitar for. The one he loved.

"Nice to meet you" Quinn repeated.

Puck placed a huge glass of beer in front of her. She wrinkled her nose involuntarily. Beer? She had never in her life even tasted beer. It smelt bad.

"Not used to drinking from the keg, Quinn?" Santana asked, every syllable dripping with sarcasm.

"Shut up, San" Puck said, almost seriously. "She can't help that she was brought up nicer than you. When did you have your first beer? In the womb?"

She huffed.

"You don't have to drink it" Puck mumbled into Quinn's ear.

His lips touched her skin briefly as he spoke.

"Hey, San. How did Mr. President react to your blessed signs telling him that he's a racist?" Mike (or Matt) asked.

Quinn could exhale. The focus was moved from her to Santana who happily told the story about how she had_ almost _gotten one of Kennedy's advisors to agree with her.

"We were in this bar and I was telling him about my thoughts and he agreed" she said animatedly.

Quinn stole a glance at Puck. He was staring at Santana, mouth open, looking engrossed.

"And?" Emma asked.

"Then he touched my breast and asked if I wanted to come up to his room."

The table exploded with laughter.

"It's not easy being a sexy girl" Santana drawled, flicking her hair.

She was a very sexy girl. And beautiful too. In a very un-Quinnlike way. Quinn had perfect features and golden hair and blue eyes. All of it screamed good girl. Her looks didn't match with anything other than dresses and lace and brushing her hair every night. She was the careful kind of pretty. Santana wasn't. She wore a pair of denim overalls and no makeup. She was the kind of girl you could wake up in the middle of night and she would still look perfect. Effortlessly beautiful.

"Maybe I should sleep with Mr. President" Santana went on. "_That _would change his mind about a lot of things."

Quinn took a big gulp of beer. It tasted horrible but she swallowed it anyway.

…

"How did you two meet then?" Matt asked. "Puck doesn't hang out with posh girls that often."

Puck took out a cigarette and lit it. He offered her the pack even though he knew that she didn't smoke.

"She kept ogling me from her window" Puck drawled.

She elbowed him in the ribs, making him bend over in pain.

"I did not."

Santana rolled her eyes and tried to change the subject. The others wouldn't let her.

"How did he lure you out here?" Emma asked, smiling.

"It was very easy" Puck answered for her. "I just pressed a cloth drenched in chloroform over her mouth and she came willingly."

They all laughed, even Santana, which was sweet because it wasn't a very funny joke. Maybe it was all the beer they were drinking. Puck had finished hers twenty minutes ago.

"We're not as bad as he makes us out to be" Emma comforted Quinn, touching her hand.

"She's right" Brian agreed. "Emma is probably the nicest person you have ever met."

"I needed to meet new people" Quinn told them honestly.

"Like some kind of experiment?" Santana snapped. "To see if we're as normal as your _real _friends."

Quinn raised her eyebrows. She had met girls like Santana before. She knew not to care.

"San, can you just shut the fuck up and drink your beer?" Puck snapped back at her.

She raised her hands to show that she was giving up. Quinn tried to focus on something that Artie was saying but she couldn't help but notice Puck and Santana's silent exchange of thoughts. Both their jaws were set, both had a steely look in their eyes.

…

In the end, the night wasn't that bad. Mike had gone to the same college as Quinn had, a few years before her and they ended up discussing professors and the coffee. Puck casually draped an arm around her chair and it made her feel safe. They didn't talk that much about politics or changing the world but it wasn't babies and gossip and that was a nice change. Emma with her gorgeous ginger hair made Quinn laugh and Brian was a perfect gentleman when he offered to bring her some water.

"I need to go now" she said suddenly.

"No, stay" Emma begged.

"I really can't" she said.

It was already one o'clock and she still had to drive home.

"Let Cinderella run off" Santana snickered. "She might turn into one of us if she stays.

"_San_" Puck growled.

She raised her eyebrows but shut her mouth. Quinn tried to ignore it.

"It was really nice meeting you" she gushed. "Puck, I'll see you some time."

"Nah, I'll go with you. If you'll drive me home, that is."

"Sure."

Secretly she had hoped he would leave with her.

"Bring her again sometime, Puckerman" Kendra ordered. "We like her."

Santana said nothing,

"I promise. If you haven't scared her off."

"Don't worry" Quinn assured them. "I would love to see you again."

Puck put his hand on the small of her back and led her out of the bar. The cold air hit her in the face and made her pant.

"Can I have my jacket back?" he asked playfully.

"No" she said. "It's cold out here."

…

"So, that's your friends."

"Yeah."

"Emma seems nice."

"She is. Too nice, maybe."

Quinn nodded.

"What about Kendra and Brian? How long have they been going out?"

Puck chuckled.

"Since forever. And engaged since they were fifteen."

"Wow. Why aren't they married yet?"

Puck shot her a look.

"Some people don't hurry into marriages."

She rolled her eyes.

"They have this thing. They won't get married until Matt can."

"So they have to find Matt a girl?"

"No, a boy. He's gay."

"Oh."

Quinn had never met a gay person before. And Matt had seemed so normal… No, she stopped herself there.

"No offense, but I think they'll have to wait a while."

"I know" Puck smiled. "But at least they have principles."

"Yeah" she exhaled.

Silence fell as she drove down the winding road to his house. Suddenly she felt very tired.

"Santana's a bitch" Puck suddenly said. "Sorry 'bout that."

"It's fine. She just doesn't like me."

"She doesn't even know you."

"Maybe not."

She killed the engine outside his house. It was dark. Maybe his mother was working again.

"Did you have fun?" he asked.

"Yes" she said honestly. "I did. Thank you."

"Anytime, Ms. Fabray."

He bent over and kissed her cheek, almost tenderly. She let him pull away.

"Call me, eh?" he said.

"Okay" she whispered.

…

"Did you go to Rich's last night?" Franny asked the next morning.

She was stirring some oatmeal for Carlton who was feeling _under the weather_. She was serving him breakfast in bed. If he had been Quinn's husband (God forgive) she would have told him to get his shit together and serve breakfast to his pregnant wife instead.

"No" Quinn answered slowly. "I went to Rachel's."

"But they are out of town, Quinn" Frannie grinned. "Come on, you can tell me! Did you and Rich make up?"

"I didn't see Richard, Frannie."

Quinn stared down into the grayish mess that was the oatmeal and decided it might be fitting breakfast for Carlton in the end.

"Where did you go then?"

For half a second, Quinn considered the option of telling Frannie the truth. That she had met one of the workers and somehow, made friends with him. It wasn't that odd. Not really. But Frannie wouldn't take it well, Quinn knew that.

"I just wanted to be alone so I drove around for a few hours" she lied.

Frannie pouted.

"You could have stayed here with me! Carlton went to bed early so I watched a movie and ate popcorn!"

"That wouldn't exactly count as being alone, Fran."

"Right."

She poured the slimy substance into a bowl and sprinkled sugar on top. Quinn made a face and Frannie shot her a look.

"He loves this stuff."

"I'm sure."

"Love is about compromises, sis. I hate the smell of this, but he loves it so I make it for him every time he's sick."

"Is this your way of telling me I should have a baby just to make my fiancée happy?" Quinn snapped. "Because making disgusting food and raising children are not the same thing."

….


	6. someone to close his eyes to you

"This isn't really country club standard" Puck drawled.

Quinn rolled her eyes at him.

"I don't eat at country clubs every day."

The diner was small and smelly, but Emma waved happily from one of the booths.

"I think she's fallen in love with you" Puck smiled.

"She's nice."

Emma gave her a warm hug and kissed Puck on his cheek.

"I had a craving for onion rings" she smiled and sat down.

Santana hadn't gotten up to greet them. She was reading a magazine and didn't look up when Quinn sat down across from her.

"Hello to you too, San" Puck said pointedly.

She waved her hand vaguely.

"She's hung-over" Emma explained.

"I'm not" Santana growled.

Puck shook his head and picked up the menu. Quinn did the same. The pages were sticky and hard to tear apart. She gave up and made the decision to order the same as someone else.

"I've heard you're getting married" Santana said, pearing over the edge of the magazine.

Quinn put down the menu before answering.

"Yes."

"Congratulations" Emma squealed. "What date is it?"

"April 14th" Puck said.

Quinn gave him a quizzical look. He shrugged as a response.

"I heard Carlton mentioning it once or twice."  
>Quinn shook her head at him, bemused, before turning back to Emma.<p>

"Yes, it's the 14th of April."

Santana finally rolled up her magazine and stuffed it into her bag.

"Don't hold your breath for an invite, Ems. I'm sure you're not posh enough."

Quinn opened her mouth to retort, but Puck beat her to it.

"If you ain't got nothing nice to say, shut up" he snarled.

"I wasn't asking to be invited" Emma pouted.

"I know" Quinn hurried to say. "But I would love for you to come."

"Even if you've only met her twice?" Santana asked.

Quinn smiled.

"Well, I like her better than most of the people I've known my whole life."

Santana rolled her eyes but Emma smiled brightly. And Quinn realized that this was the first time she had thought about the wedding without wanting to cry.

…

Quinn and Emma decided to split the bill (Puck had forgotten his wallet and Santana didn't even offer to help pay) and headed for the cashier.

"She can be like that" Emma murmured as she dug in her purse for change.

"Santana?"

"Yeah."

"It's fine, it doesn't bother me."

"You must wonder why we put up with her."

"She's your friend."

"Yes" Emma agreed. "Yes, she is. She's the most loyal person I know, once she lets you in. When my parents split up, she baked, and Santana _never_ bakes, brownies for me every week to cheer me up."

Quinn handed a bill to the cashier.

"She just doesn't like me" she shrugged.

Emma smiled sadly.

"Don't take it personally, she never likes anyone. She hated me for the first two months in High School; saw me as a threat against Puck."

"Were you?"

"No, god no. I doubt that anyone can be a threat to her."

"Really?"

Quinn turned to neck to watch the table. Puck and Santana were both leaning their chests over the table and talking animatedly.

"She might be loyal to me" Emma concluded, "but that's nothing against what she is to him. He could kill someone and she would help him hide the body."

"Wow" Quinn smiled.

"Yeah. I'm going to the ladies'. You comin'?"

Quinn shook her head and made her way back to the table. The closer she got, the clearer could she hear Santana's angry voice.

"You're an idiot."

She halted to listen.

"Thanks."

"This is some kind of rebellion for her! Screwing the farm boy before marrying the stockbroker."

"I'm not _screwing _her."

"What are you doing with her then?"

"She's actually nice, San."

Santana shook her head in disbelief.

"_Nice_? Since when do you care about niceness?"  
>"Maybe I like someone not telling me that I'm an idiot."<p>

Santana sighed heavily.  
>"She's a daddy's girl with too much money and too much time. Fuck her all you want, but quit forcing her on us."<p>

"Emma likes her."

"Emma likes everyone. I don't like her. I hate the way she looks at us; like we're beneath her."

"She doesn't do that."

"She's going to get you fired and mess up your life, Puck."

"Why would she do that?"

Santana smiled cruelly.

"Because she can."

"Fuck off" Puck muttered.

"Ready to go?" Emma called from the door.

Quinn nodded mutely and joined her. Santana and Puck didn't speak a word on the way home.

…

Quinn was taking a bath when her mother barged in and closed the door behind her. Quinn quickly crossed her arms over her bare chest.

"Mom…"

"I need to talk to you" Judy announced.

"Fine, but I'm in the _bath_."

"Yes. That's the plan. You keep running away from me when I try to talk to you."

"And if I'm in the bath, I'm stuck?"

Judy made some kind of half nod and Quinn sighed.

"Mama, can we please talk later?"

"No. We need to talk now."

Quinn slid deeper under the water, as to conceal her naked body from her mother's judging eyes. She had probably never felt less comfortable.

"Fine, go ahead."

Judy nodded and clasped her hands and unclasped them.

"People have started to talk, Quinny."

"About what?" Quinn retorted, immediately on the defensive.

"You and Richard, honey. He went to opening of City Hall alone."

"Oh God, let's arrest him!"

"This isn't funny."

"It kind of is" Quinn disagreed even though she didn't feel like laughing at all.

"You two need to work this out. You're engaged for crying out loud."

Quinn twisted her gold ring round and round her finger. It felt big now. Maybe she had lost weight.

"I don't want to."

Judy clamped her hands to fists.

"Don't act like a child, Quinn. What you do doesn't only concern you, if reflects badly on me and your father and Frannie."

"So I should marry him because otherwise Carlton might not get into some men's club?"

Her mother closed her eyes as to gather strength. She looked older than she had in a long time.

"You could do a lot worse than Richard, Quinny" she said quietly before leaving the room.

Quinn lay in the bath until the water turned ice cold.

…

Richard smelled like cigarettes and whisky as he hugged her. It was their first hug, ever.

"I missed you" he murmured into her hair.

She didn't reply, didn't want to lie right away.

"I'm so glad you called" he continued. "I was too proud to."

She still didn't open her mouth, this time because she had nothing to say.

"Let me take your coat" he offered.

She slipped out of her blue woolen coat, gave it to Richard, who handed it to his maid. Quinn still didn't know her name. She should ask, but not now.

"Hey" he mumbled as she headed for the living room. "Let me look at you."

She stopped and pulled her closer. She stared into his face, saw his evenly shaven chin, his angular nose and small, grey eyes. She wondered what their children would look like.

"I missed you" he told her again before pressing a kiss onto her forehead.

She opened her mouth to reply but her voice was gone. Her throat was dry.

"Quinn?" he asked, giving her a quizzical look.

She strained a smile onto her face.

"I missed you too" she told him a second too late.

He smiled and put his arm around her waist.

"My mother wanted me to give you her tiara; the one she wore when she married my father" he said as they entered his living room.

His maid followed them and poured Quinn a cup of tea. She was quite young, perhaps in her thirties or early forties. She lacked the natural calm of Grace but kept this house spotless so Richard must be pleased with her.

"Thank you" Quinn told her.

She nodded and smiled and disappeared.

"Do you want to see it?" Richard asked.

Quinn tried to remember what he was talking about.

"Yes, please" she said uncertainly.

He picked up a big, blue box covered in velvet and handed it to her. She opened the lid and stared down at a very classic, silver tiara. It would go beautifully with her mother's dress.

"It's wonderful, Richard" she said.

He beamed like he picked it off a shelf himself, not inherited it and probably never seen it before.

"I can't wait to marry you."

He sat down close to her, so close that his leg pushed on hers.

"I want to be with you" he mumbled.

Quinn thought of Frannie and her hurry to marry Carlton for sex. It made her nauseous.

"You'll have to wait" she smiled, as if it was some kind of flirting and not that she didn't want him.

He sighed comically.

"Only five months left" he sighed.

"Yes" Quinn whispered. "Only five."

…

Their engagement party was a little late considering it was only a few months until the wedding day, but people were nice about it. Aunts and uncles and distant friends of Richard's handed Quinn flower arrangements and small parcels. They complemented her beauty and congratulated her. She smiled and shook all their hands and thanked them for coming.

"You look lovely" someone said behind her.

She turned. It was Emma, smiling and dressed in the dress she had probably worn to her high school prom. It was a bit out of fashion and a bit too puffy, but Quinn didn't mind. Emma was the first person she had been pleased to see.

"Thank you" Quinn said and hugged her friend.

"I just wanted to drop by and say thank you for the wedding invite."

During the previous few weeks, Emma and Quinn had begun to meet every Tuesday at the trodden down diner. Emma was off work that day and Quinn was always bored out of her mind. They played hang man on napkins and talked about the future. Emma wanted to be a teacher, or no, not a teacher, but someone who would help kids through high school. Quinn told her about the big, musty libraries that she wanted to wander every day. Emma didn't laugh or call her ridiculous.

"That's Richard, I suppose?" she asked and pointed through the crowd.

The living room had been transformed by the hands of a now very pregnant Frannie and Judy. And Grace, of course, but people didn't compliment her on how marvelous it looked.

"Yes" Quinn said.

Richard was talking to someone Quinn didn't know, maybe one of his college friends. He was smiling and waving his hands.

"Handsome."

"Yes."

Emma carefully patted her back. Quinn had never said a word about her feeling about this wedding but Emma knew. She was too polite to call her on it though.

"He looks nice."

"He is."

"We're going to the bar tomorrow night, me and some of the gang. You should come."

Quinn shrugged.

"Is Santana coming?"  
>"Yes, but Puck is too, so she'll most likely behave."<p>

Quinn laughed. She hadn't seen Puck in forever. The winter had been rough and ground had frozen. Some of the older workers had been drying old cotton and sorting it in the huge barn, but the newer ones had to wait for the spring for more work. It meant that Puck had most likely found another job and that he didn't hang around her gate anymore. It bothered her.

"I'll love to come" Quinn said. "Thank you."

"Great!"

"Quinn?"

They both turned. Richard was holding out a glass of wine to her. She took it and he clinked his with hers. Emma smiled serenely as Richard bent down and kissed Quinn's mouth.

…

"Please raise your glasses" Russell Fabray told everyone. "To my beautiful daughter and her handsome fiancée."

People raised their crystal and toasted them.

"To Quinn Fabray and Richard Adams!" Carlton added on.

People repeated the words. Quinn felt Richard's hand on her back. She grabbed his fingers and held them as if they were proof of their love.

"I need some air" she breathed into his ear.

He nodded but didn't offer to go with her. She was grateful. Without anyone noticing she slipped out the kitchen door and sat down on the steps. The wind was cold but her skin was hot and she needed some oxygen.

"I guess you made up" Puck said.

She wasn't surprised by hearing his voice, maybe she had even hoped he would be here.

"I guess" she answered.

He sat down next to her. He was wearing a soft flannel shirt and jeans. His hands were dirty, his boots muddy. She felt relief by seeing all these things, things that were normal. Not her expensive dress or her perfectly decorated house.

"Where have you been?"

"Have you missed me?" he smirked.

She shrugged.

"I've been working in Mobile."

"In Mobile?"

"Yeah, I got a part time thing working construction. Been crashing on a buddy's couch for two weeks, just came home for the weekend to see my mom."

"Right."

She shivered in the cold and he put his arm around her. She stiffened at first but relaxed a second later. There wasn't anything flirty or sexy about that gesture. He just wanted to keep her warm.

"How did you know about the party?" she asked.

"Emma told me."

"Oh."

"She wanted me to come with her, but I guessed it wouldn't look good; the worker crashing the boss's daughter's engagement party."

"You're probably right."

"Still, I wanted to say congrats."

She smiled sadly.

"For what?"

He shrugged.

"You're getting married."

She nodded.

"Right. Almost forgot."  
>He laughed silently and she realized that she had missed him. His laugh and the calmness he spread around him. The fact that he would risk his job to keep her warm.<p>

"I need to get back" she whispered.

"Did Emma tell you about tomorrow?"

She nodded.

"Yes, I'll see you there."

"Good."

They both stood up. Quinn's skin was covered in goose bumps now.

"Go back in and get drunk" he advised her.

She snorted.

"I've never been drunk. I would probably wreck the house."

"You've never been drunk?"

She shook her head. He smirked.

"See you tomorrow."

She turned and opened the door. She stepped inside and almost collided with Grace. Quinn jumped.

"They're lookin' for you, Miss Quinn" Grace said, her voice even but her eyes dark.

"Oh, right."

She passed her maid without another word and went back to the party. She would deal with her later.

…

Richard sat down on her bed.

"I've never been in your room before" he told her, as if she didn't know.

"I know."

It looked wrong; this grown man in a black suit, sitting on her flowery duvet and smiling. Out of place. He didn't belong in this room, in his house, in her life.

"Come and give me a kiss."

She hesitated before sitting down next to him and kissing his mouth carefully. He groaned and pushed her down.

"I can't wait any longer" he whispered.

She let him kiss her, touch her chests with the dress between them, even run his finger over her thigh. But she didn't enjoy it. And when he got too far, she wrestled him off her.

"I want to wait until the wedding" she proclaimed steadily. "It's important."

He sighed heavily.

"Quinn, you drive me crazy."

"Maybe you should leave then" she told him. "Before you get too… _crazy_."

"Can't I spend the night? I want to hold you."

"No" she said a bit too quickly. "No."

Richard didn't catch her tone, he still thought it was some kind of flirty game.

"I can't wait for our wedding night" he breathed. "I've already booked us a hotel room, my dad's treat."

Quinn almost made a face, thinking of Mr. Adams paying so that Richard could deflower her.

"Great."

"Can April come any sooner?" he groaned.

"I guess not" she said before shooing him out.

…

The bar was less busy tonight. Maybe because it was the end of a month and people were broke. Quinn had driven herself and stood nervously in the door way, looking for Emma or Puck or even Santana. None of them were there yet.

"Looking for someone?" a man said, sidling up next to her.

He was rugged and smelly with a dirty beard. He stared at her chest under her knitted cardigan. She stepped away.

"No" she said.

"Are you lost, sweetheart? You don't seem to fit in."

She didn't. Even in a casual dress and her hair loose, she looked like someone who was trying too hard.

"Leave her alone, Neil" Puck called out from behind them.

She felt a wave of relief at seeing him. He wore the same clothes as yesterday; casual was the kindest way to describe how he looked. Emma and Santana followed him.

"She your girl, Puckerman?" the smelly man called Neil asked.

"Just leave her alone."

Neil raised his hands in a defensive way and stepped away.

"You can't have three for yourself, it's not fair" he muttered.

"Don't worry, Neil" another guy called from a table. "Kendra and I will share Emma."

Quinn recognized the man and the woman sitting across from her. They had been here the other night but there had been too many people there for her to remember their names. The couple. The ones who had dated since forever.

"Never hover in the doorway" Puck mumbled amused into Quinn's ear. "Neil might snatch you next time."

"Thanks for the warning" she huffed.

He placed his hand on the small of her back and led her to the table. The woman gave her a hug.

"Kendra" she introduced herself again. "In case you forgot."

"Right" Quinn said, hugging her back. "And Brian."

She sat down with Santana on one side and Puck on the other. Emma went to get drinks.

"I think" Puck announced "that we should get Quinn drunk tonight."

"So you can take advantage of her?" Santana sneered.

"No, because I've never been drunk before" Quinn admitted.

"Let's do it" Brian agreed.

"Only if you want it" Kendra added.

Quinn shrugged. She felt jumpy since last night with Richard wanting to sleep over and Grace's judging eyes. Her neck ached and she had trouble sitting still.

"Why not?" she sighed.

Puck punched the air.

"This will be great."

Quinn wasn't so sure it would be and Santana seemed unconvinced too.

"I'm not holding back her hair when she pukes" she informed them all.

"Good to know, San" Puck yawned.

…

Everything felt lighter. Her head and her hands and her mood. Brian and Kendra were kissing silently and Quinn watched them intently. They seemed too impossible in love, blissfully. Why couldn't she feel like that?

"You're staring at them" Puck told her.

"Studying them" Quinn corrected him.

"For your own marriage?"

"Yes."

He smiled. He was only drinking water tonight, the designated driver for the evening.

"Richard doesn't kiss you like that?"

She shrugged.

"I don't like it when he kisses me."

Puck smiled broadly and handed her his glass.

"Drink some water, Q."

She obeyed.

"You know the worst thing?" she turned to him and accidentally knocked a wine glass onto the floor.

"No, what's the worst thing?"

She moved closer to his face and hissed.

_"I'll have to have sex with him_."

Puck laughed and looked a bit worried at the same time. He probably wasn't used to her being so honest. Frankly. Quinn wasn't either.

"You'll have to live with him forever, Quinn" he told her.

"I know, I know. That _sucks_. But I'll have to sleep with him too. At least once."

"Probably more than once."

"_Really?"  
><em>"Haven't you heard of honeymoons? All you do on those is have sex."

"Crap."

Quinn went back to staring at Kendra and Brian.

"How can they still be in love?" she asked everyone.

"True love and shit" Santana replied.

Quinn had forgotten that she was there. She was nursing a beer and acting moody.

"Don't be so overly positive, San. It hurts" Puck drawled.

She glared at him. Quinn stared between them. There was so much frustration between them she could almost touch it. Santana hated her. Puck didn't. That was basically the issue.

"I need to go the bathroom" she lied to give them some time alone.

"I'll go with you" Kendra piped up.

Quinn felt relieved. She wasn't sure that she would make it so the ladies' without falling over without help.

…

"So what's the deal with Puck?" Kendra asked as she was redoing her lipstick.

Quinn leaned against a sink and stared at her own blotchy face. Her eyes were red and lips felt numb. Was she just drunk or had someone slipped something in her drink too?

"The deal?" she asked dumbly.

"Emma told me you're engaged."

"Yes."

"What's the deal with Puck then?"  
>"There's no deal" Quinn answered.<p>

"He has never brought someone new to this bar, much less a girl, even less a taken girl."

"Maybe I'm the exception."

Kendra smiled.

"I bet you are."

Quinn turned the water on and let her hands get cold under the tap. It strangely enough cleared her head a bit.

"How can you still love Brian? After all this time?" she asked bluntly.

Kendra smiled serenely.

"How can I not?" she replied.

"I mean" Quinn began, but stopped, she had lost the ability to arrange sentences in her head.

"Brian is everything to me. You know, when you're a kid and your mother is the one you can really trust? The one that knows all your secrets and is the one to calm you down?"

"No" Quinn replied. "Not really."

Kendra gave her a quizzical look.

"Anyway, Brian is that to me. He is my safe haven. I never have to pretend with him, because I know that he loves me despite everything."

Quinn felt tears burn in throat.

"I don't feel that way" she confessed. "Not at all."

Kendra put one hand on her shoulder.

"Look; I'm not sure that's how love is supposed to feel, Quinn. There is no right way for it to feel. I've been with Brian since I was fifteen and still played with dolls. You don't have the kind of build up with your fiancé, right?"

Quinn dried her face with a rough paper napkin.

"I have no build up with him" she whispered.

Kendra looked panicky.

"Quinn, let's go back out. I think it's time for you to go home."

"You're probably right."

…

She fell asleep in the car. Puck was driving her car and she somehow felt safe in the familiar smell. It wasn't until he turned the engine off that she woke up.

"Where are we?" she muttered.

"At my place."

"Drive me home."

"How am I supposed to get home then? Walk?"

She groaned.

"Fine. I'll drive myself home."

"You can't even walk a straight line."

She groaned again.

"I want to sleep."

"You can sleep in my bed."

"Yeah, right."

"Mom's at work. I'll sleep in hers. I won't rape you."

She rolled her eyes.

"My mother will be worried."

"You're twenty-two years old, Quinn. You can do what the fuck you want."

Actually, she couldn't, not really, but she was too tired to fight him on that point.

"Fine" she muttered.

He helped her out of the car, into the house and into his bedroom. She had never been there before. The bed was quite narrow but had a nice bedspread. She took off her shoes and crawled in. The sheets weren't the expensive kind she had in her own bed but she was too tired to even notice.

"You're actually kind of nice" she mumbled to him.

He smiled and tucked her in.

"I try."

"No, you don't."

He bent down and kissed her hair. His breathe felt hot on her skin.

"No, I generally don't, but I do try with you."

"Why?" she whispered.

"I don't know" he replied. "Why are you here?"

"I don't know" she echoed.

…

She woke up feeling hot and sweaty. She tried to shift herself in the bed but hit something soft. A tan arm was draped across her waist, a head placed just behind hers. She froze, scared at first.

"Mom came home" Puck muttered into her neck. "Wondered why I wasn't sleeping with the girl I dragged home."

"Couldn't you sleep on the couch?"

He snickered.

"This is _my _bed you know, princess."

"I'm not used to sharing" she confessed.

"Clearly. You've stolen all the pillows."

She turned around so that her face was close to his. He looked sleepy, like a dog or a baby with eyes half-closed.

"Go back to sleep" he told her. "It'll help with the hangover."

She tried, she really did. But his presence was too distracting. The way his thigh bumped her hip. Or the way he mumbled when on the verge of sleep.

"I can't sleep" she mumbled.

"Well, I can" he groaned.

"I've never slept with anyone before."

"I know, I know. Keeping pure and all that shit. I'm not trying to bone you, am I?"

She frowned at the ugly expression.

"No, I mean, I've never _slept _with anyone before."

"You haven't?"

His eyes opened a fraction. They looked almost black in the dark.

"I told you, I'm not used to sharing."

He smiled.

"You really are a princess, aren't you?"

"Yeah, ha-ha, very funny."

"It's very easy" he told her. "Just ignore me."

"I can't" she whispered.

He didn't say anything for a long time and neither did she.

"I really want to kiss you" he confessed.

"Okay."

"Can I?"

"Okay."

He leaned in slightly and pressed his mouth against hers. His fingers found hers and entangled under the covers. She felt his chest hair against her collar bones.

"Are you still drunk?" he mumbled. "If you are, we should probably stop."

"Maybe a little."

"Okay."

But he kissed her again and she didn't pull back. He rolled on top of her and she interlocked her fingers around his neck.

"You need to tell me when to stop" he warned her.

"Fine" she agreed even though she didn't know where to draw the line herself.

He kissed her face and pulled down the straps of her dress and kissed the soft skin just above her chest. His fingers made their way under her skirt and she didn't protest. It was exciting and calming at the same time. And in the end, he was the one to stop.

"You're engaged for god's sake" he moaned into her shoulder. "This is wrong."

"Yes" she agreed.

He rolled off her and lay panting beside her. She touched all the places his mouth had.

"Can we try sleeping again?" she asked silently.

"Yes."

…

"I've haven't thrown up since I was like six" she whined.

"Of course you haven't" Puck sighed from the kitchen.

Quinn stared into the red bucket he had found for her. She felt sick but refused to empty her gut in front of him. It was midday and snowing outside. Quinn huddled up under the comforter.

"I'm never drinking again."

"Of course you're not" he called.

"Where's your mama?"

"She went to her friend's, wanted to give me some private time with my _lady. _She still has faith that I'll marry someone who'll take me off her hands."

Quinn snickered. She had yet to dare look herself in the mirror, she assumed she looked like something out of a horror movie. It was better to suspect than to know, though. She crouched down lower on the couch and watched Puck brew some coffee.

"Why do people do this to themselves?" she asked.

"It's fun" he shrugged.

"Not feeling like this."

"Maybe not."

He handed her the steaming mug and she cradled it between her palms.

"I think I accused Kendra of being too in love" she muttered.

Puck smiled and sat down on the couch by her feet.

"Don't worry, we all do that from time to time."

"Good to know."

"Look, Q, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have forced you to get drunk."

"You didn't force me."

"I know, but it was my idea."

She shrugged.

"It's fine."

"I just wanted you to relax a bit, you always seem so…"

"Stiff?"

He snorted.

"No, I wouldn't say that. Controlled maybe."

"Yes, I guess I am."

He looked at her imploringly, like he was trying to figure her out.

"You weigh every word on a scale before saying anything. You censure yourself like crazy. It messes with my head, wondering what you really think."

Quinn took a big gulp of coffee. It burned her throat.

"Does it really matter what I think?" she asked.

"Yes" he said.

"Ask me anything then" she said boldly.

"Why are you here?" he asked a bit too quickly for it to be spontaneous.

"I was too drunk to drive."

"I could have driven you home and taken the car with me, and brought it back tomorrow. It's not that complicated."

"I was too drunk to think of that" she shrugged.

"Is that it?"

She focused on his face, on his jaw and nose and eyes. On his hands on her feet, warming them with his feel.

"You're not terrible company" she admitted.

He laughed.

"Not terrible?"

"Don't push it" she warned.

…

"How about you tell me something" she said.

She should go home, her mother must be worried, but she didn't want to. Puck's house was warm and toasty. She still felt a bit nauseous and lying on a couch was the perfect solution.

"What do you want to know?" he asked.

He still sat the end of sofa, her feet in his lap. He hadn't showed any indications of wanting her to leave.

"Tell me about your dad."

His face closed up within a millisecond. All color and softness vanished. She wanted to take the words back but it was too late.

"There's not much to tell."

"Okay."

But he continued anyway. Maybe because she had been semi-honest with him. Maybe because he needed to talk about it. Quinn didn't know.

"My father worked for my grandfather. He had a big factory outside Little Rock and my dad worked there from he was thirteen or even younger, I've never asked. My mother used to play around the factory after school, she made friends with the workers, learned how to do simple tasks."

Puck's mouth was the only thing moving, he sat rigid and Quinn didn't dare to move an inch. She had a feeling he hadn't spoken about his father in a long time.

"They fell in love, of course. My father was almost seven years older than her but it didn't matter. He was black as the night and she wasn't. That didn't matter either. They started sneaking around, she was sixteen then, he was twenty-three. No one knew, of course. If anyone would have found out, he would have been fired. And probably beaten to death."

"But someone found out?" Quinn whispered.

"No, not really. They kept everything a secret for years and years, until she had a job to support herself so that she wouldn't need her family. And then they told everyone."

"Hell must have broken loose."

"Yes, well, I don't know, she never talks about it, but I guess. They didn't care, though, in love and young and stupid as they were. They ran away and bought his house and dad got a job working for your grandfather. Or father. I don't remember who owned the plantation then."

Even though Quinn knew that the tale would end badly, her heart ached for another reason. Their love had been powerful enough for them to defy every rule in the book. He was too old and too black, but they didn't care. Quinn couldn't understand how that would feel.

"And they had you?"

"Yes, a bastard child because they couldn't get married."

"Was your mother Jewish?"

"Yes, her father had moved down here from Boston to develop his business, but they weren't very devoted to Jewish faith. It was hard to be a Jew in the bible belt back then; still is actually."

She nodded, yes, she had never met anyone before him who hadn't been a Christian.

"What happened then?"

"She, my mother, went through terrible things. People spat at her on the street, this young, pretty girl living with that man. A negro. She tried to act she didn't care, never cried in front of me, not once. She had her work but kept to herself. Her father disowned her, she had a big family; but they all shunned her. And she raised me, the biracial baby who people didn't know how to treat. But she never complained, not even once."

Quinn wanted to reach out and touch his hand, but she was too much of coward. She didn't know how he would react. He seemed too tense.

"And then he left her. She had gone through hell over and over because she loved him and he just left. Packed his bags one night and said he couldn't do it anymore and left."

"I'm sorry, Puck."

"Don't be. I'm over it, she's the one who isn't. He was her only family, and he ditched her because he was tired of family life. Or something, I don't know."

"And you were only a kid?"

"Yeah, twelve. She forced me to stay in school, to graduate, I wanted to work, to take his place, but she refused."

"She sounds lovely, your mom" Quinn whispered.

"She is. She's the strongest woman I have ever met. She's all alone but never cracks, never breaks down."

"She's not alone" she whispered and finally covered his knuckles with her clammy hand. "She has you, right?"

"Yes."

His fingers moved and found hers, he held them so tight it almost hurt, but in a good way.

"I've never told anyone about him before" he mumbled. "They all know, my friends do, but I never talk about him."

Quinn didn't say anything, she felt like she didn't have to.

…

She came home to a house in chaos. At first she thought they were worried about her, their absent daughter, but soon she realized that they probably hadn't even realized that she had been gone. Her father was shouting at someone in his office, Carlton was screaming into a phone at someone else and Jamie was crying frantically in the kitchen. Instinctively she wanted to turn around and leave again.

"Quinn, can you help with Jamie?" Frannie called hysterically.

Quinn picked up the screaming toddler as Frannie took a glass of water. She was eight months pregnant; this kind of stress probably wasn't ideal.

"What's going on?"

"There's been a fire in one of the sheds, heaps of cotton is gone, the trucks are damaged, oh Jesus."

Quinn sighed to herself. She didn't want to get caught up in this but she had no choice.

"You fucking negros did something" she heard her father scream.

"Who is he shouting at?"

Frannie sat down on a kitchen chair and held out her arms for Jamie. Quinn kept him, she could do with some rest.

"Eugene. He was the last person to leave last night."

Eugene had worked on the plantation as long as Quinn could remember. He had the skin color of really rich chocolate, a nice smile and had never been late to work a day in his life. ´

"And Carlton? Who is he turning deaf?"

Frannie managed a small smile.

"The insurance company" she sighed. "I wish he would hang up, though. He promised to take me for my check up today."

"I'll take you" Quinn offered.

Jamie was still screaming loudly into her ear; it didn't help with the hangover at all.

"He promised" Frannie whispered.

"I know, Fran."

Quinn handed her son back to her and went up to change her clothes. Maybe it was a blessing, all this drama. Not even Frannie had noticed that she was wearing the same dress she had when left last night.

…

"Hello Mrs. Barton" the nice nurse said.

Quinn remembered her from the last visit. The nice lady who had tried to calm Frannie out of her fears of not having a boy.

"How are you feeling, ma'am?" the nurse asked.

Frannie smiled. She had dark circles under her eyes.

"Tired."

The nurse did the same examination as last time, feeling the belly and her back and listening to her heart.

"The doctor will be in soon, Mrs. Barton" she said.

"Doctor?" Quinn asked. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh no, ma'am, we're just making sure because this is Mrs. Barton's last visit."

"Right."

The three (or four with Jamie) of them sat in silence while waiting for the doctor. Quinn tried to console the child in her lap, but it was impossible.

"Maybe he is ill" Frannie mumbled. "He has been like this all night, I didn't sleep at all."

The nurse furrowed her brow and took a good look at the little boy.

"He looks a bit peaky, do you want me to take a look at him?"

Frannie nodded as the doctor stepped in. He was old and frail and probably been here when Quinn was born too. The doctor took 20 minutes to do exactly the same things the nurse had done before excusing himself.

"I think he has a fever" the nurse said. "You should take him home and put him to bed."

Frannie nodded. Her eyelids dropped dangerously as they left the room. The nurse put a hand on Quinn's arm and halted in the hallway.

"She really should get more rest, your sister" she said in a hushed tone.

Quinn nodded.

"Yes, I know. I'll try to help out."

The woman nodded.

"I wish she wouldn't worry so much about what her husband will think" she mumbled.

She remembered their last visit.

"Me too."

They shared a look of understanding. Quinn felt community with this nice nurse, who helped crazy mothers and their unavailable husbands all day.

"What's the doctor's name?" she blurted out. "I mean, my fiancée wanted me to ask, for when we have children."

"Doctor Johnson, ma'am, but you'll have to hurry to get pregnant. He might retire any day."

Frannie, who had approached them in silence, giggled.

"No worries, nurse, my sister's getting married in April."

"I might see you then" the nurse smiled.

Quinn took Frannie's arm and they left the hospital together. Jamie had fallen asleep against his mother's chest.

"Why did you ask?" Frannie asked. "I thought you didn't want kids."

Quinn shrugged.

"I don't know. I just thought, if I'm having a kid, I would want her to help me."

…

When they got back to the house, they could hear the screaming through the walls and doors. Quinn stopped on the porch.

"I'm not going in" she said. "I don't want to."

"Me neither" Frannie whispered. "But I have to. I have to put Jamie to bed."

"He'll never stay asleep inside. Put him in his stroller and let him sleep here."

Frannie didn't look convinced and Quinn couldn't really blame her. She knew nothing about children and her sister knew that. But in the end, she followed the advice. She placed the toddler in his stroller, wrapped in blankets and sat down herself on the porch swing. Quinn joined her.

"I really thought he would be more involved this time" Frannie whispered into the wind. "I mean, he loves Jamie so much that I thought he'd excited for another child."

Quinn turned her head and saw the burned down shed in the distance. She wondered if Eugene had been fired. Probably.

"Carlton's an idiot" she spat boldly.

Frannie gave her a reproachful look.

"He's my husband."

"He's our father's puppet."

Frannie didn't object this time, she just rocked the stroller slowly.

"I know you don't like him, Quinn, but he _is_ my husband."

"I know."

"He's father of my children. I can't just give up on him."

Quinn stared at the baby boy, asleep and breathing slowly.

"Don't you wish Jamie could have a better dad?"

Frannie's voice was hard when she replied.

"It doesn't work that way. Jamie wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Carlton. You don't understand, you won't until you have kids of your own."

"You're right" Quinn said slowly. "I don't understand."

They sat in silence until the sounds of shouting disappeared and the sun began to set over the fields.

…


	7. leave at your own chosen speed

Richard took her to the movies, it was a Bond movie and not really her thing, but the night turned out fine anyway. She got to eat popcorn and have awkward conversations and he didn't even try to hold her hand. It was the easiest one and half hours she had spent with him. Maybe she could stand being married to him if they spent all their time at the cinema.

"Do you know what I really look forward to?" he asked as they got into his car. "About being married to you, I mean."

She turned her face away. Yes, she did know. She thought of that hotel room his father had booked for their wedding night often enough without him reminding her.

"No, what?" she answered, keeping her voice even.

"Going to the movies on Saturday nights. Eating Sunday dinners together, talking about the week and the weather. Holding your hand when we walk into parties. Those kind of things."

She examined his face, feeling shock and disbelief.

"That sounds really nice" she admitted.

Richard smiled.

"I've been alone for too long, Quinn."

He took her hand between his. She bit her lip and found his gaze

"I want all those things too" she whispered, because it was true, she had just never realized it before.

"We might have some things we disagree on, but I don't care. We'll work it out, right?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Yeah" she breathed.

He leaned in and kissed him. She tried to kiss him like Puck had kissed her, like something was burning inside her. It didn't work, she still felt nothing.

"I'm so glad I met you" he murmured against her lips.

Her mother was right; she could do a lot worse than Richard.

…

Grace was putting on her coat, getting ready to leave, when Quinn walked through the front door. They hadn't really spoken since the engagement party when Grace had seen her sneak out to speak to Puck. Quinn had done a good job of avoiding her.

"You've been out with Mr. Adams, Miss Quinn?" Grace asked politely.

"Yes" she replied.

Their eyes met and Quinn quickly looked away.

"Did you have nice night?"

"Very" Quinn said.

"Your mama told me that she's going to post the wedding invitations in the morning."

"Yes" Quinn said again.

There was something challenging in Grace's voice, as if she waited for Quinn to confess some crime. As if she would cry out that she was _so _sorry or at least admit that she had done something wrong. Quinn did nothing.

"She looked mighty happy, your mama. First time she smiled since the fire."

"I know, Grace."

Another tense second passed before Grace nodded curtly.

"Alright, good night, Miss Quinn."  
>"Good night, Grace."<p>

The door clicked behind her and Quinn quickly locked it. She leaned against the wood and took a deep breath. She should feel bad, bad about kissing and sleeping with another man. Bad about feeling nothing for her fiancée. But she didn't, not really, she just felt bad about Grace looking at her in that way; like she lost all respect for her.

…

A lot of workers were called in to rebuild the shed that had burned down. Puck was among them. Quinn watched them all from her window and spotted him immediately. Carlton was out there too, shouting and gesticulating, but no one seemed to listen to him. He probably had no idea how to build anything. She tried to find Eugene in the crowd but couldn't spot him. Maybe he wasn't part of the building team. Or maybe he was at home, unemployed, just before Christmas.

"You want some tea, honey?" her mother said from the doorway.

Quinn took the hot cup and continued to stare out.

"Mama, what happened to Eugene?" she asked.

Judy Fabray's face turned serious.

"We… your father had to let him go. He cost us a lot of money with that fire."

"He didn't start it."

"No, no, but he was the one last one to leave."

"Wasn't there some kind of electrical problem?"

Judy shrugged. Quinn wanted to slap her. How could she not care? A man who had spent most of his life out on those fields had been fired because of some old wiring.

"Mama, we have to change daddy's mind. Eugene will never get another job after this. No one will trust him."

"That's not our problem, sweetie."

Quinn put her tea down. She draped her robe tighter around her.

"Is he in his office?"

"Quinn, don't" her mother warned her.

But she didn't listen. She stormed down the stairs and into her father's office. He was reading the news paper and smoking. Working hard as usual. She felt disgusted by him in his starch white shirt and well ironed pants. He had no idea what is was like in the real world.

"Daddy" she said.

He looked up and smiled.

"Morning, pumpkin."

"The fire wasn't Eugene's fault."

Her father chuckled.

"Quinn, don't meddle in this. You have your wedding to worry about; let me figure this out."

"The insurance company will help with damages right? You didn't really lose that much. The shed was old. It would have had to be rebuilt soon anyway."

Russell offered her a cigarette but she shook her head, crossing her arms stubbornly.

"Doll, don't worry. We're doing fine. This won't affect the amount of money I'm spending on your wedding. You'll still get the best."

"This isn't about that…"

He cut her off.

"What do you think of that Puckerman kid?"

She stiffened. Her father didn't look angry or upset. He couldn't know. There was no way.

"Why?"

"He's taken over outside, organizing the builders. Carlton thinks he's doing it but he was never held a hammer in his life."

"So?" she urged him.

"I think of making him in charge. He's good, obviously, been working with things like this before. And…"

"And what?" she asked, knowing already what was going to come.

"He's not like them, is he? Not really. He's not black. God knows he's not white either, but you know."

Quinn shook her head.

"No, daddy, I don't know."

"I mean, he seems reliable, right?"

"Because he's whiter than the others?"

"You don't think I should trust him?"

Quinn sighed. She closed her eyes to gather strength.

"Of course you should. If he's good, not because of his skin color."

Russell smiled at her.

"You're such a humanitarian, Quinn."

…

"Your dad promoted me" Puck said.

She sighed and stole one of his fries.

"I know, he asked my opinion about you. If you were _trustworthy_."

"What did you say?"

"No, of course. You can't trust someone who's biracial."

He laughed and nudged her arm. She rolled her eyes. They were at the diner, waiting for Emma. She was late, almost an hour. But Quinn didn't care, not really. She could see Emma anytime, every Thursday, but Puck was always busy.

"What did you say? Honestly."

"Honestly, I kind of shouted at him for picking you because you were whiter than the others."

He grinned.

"I should get some perks for it. This is probably my first one so far."

She stole another fry and bit down the middle. The soft and the hot potato burned her tongue.

"Am I like them?" she asked

"Like who?"

"Like my family."

"I don't know them, Quinn" he said softly, pushing the plate of fries towards her.

"I'm one to talk" she smiled sarcastically while pushing the plate back. "I don't know anything about real life. They ruined me that way, sheltered me."

"People do what they think is best for their children" Puck shrugged. "Your parents raised you in the best way they could think of. Never having to want for anything. Never getting hurt."

She knew he was right but it still stung. He had just confirmed what she had already known. She was a spoiled, silly girl with an expensive car and gold earrings.

"I have to go" Quinn mumbled, collecting her bags and leaving money on the table.

If she was spoiled, at least she could pay for his fries.

"Hey" he said, standing up too. "Did I upset you? I just agreed with you."

She shook her head.

"No, you were right. I'm not mad."

"Then stay."

"I can't."  
>He looked confused and resentful, like a little kid not understanding why he couldn't have more ice cream.<p>

"Say hi to Emma for me, 'kay?"

"You wanna tell me what you're so late for?"

She fidgeted on the spot, contemplating lying, but changed her mind. She had no reason not to tell the truth.

"I'm going to get my wedding dress fitted."  
>His face turned blank, expressionless.<p>

"Oh, right."

She passed him, accidentally touching the skin of his hand. It made her shiver.

…

Quinn felt hot and annoyed as the seamstress pricked her with a pin for the eighth time. Jamie was whimpering in Frannie's arms. He was still ill, still kept his mother up every night. It was showing on Frannie's face now, she had dark circles under eyes and didn't look like her normal shiny self.

"Not too tight" Judy warned. "I don't want her to look vulgar."

Quinn doubted that anyone could look vulgar in this dress with its high collar and long sleeves. Maybe Santana with her big breasts and cheeky smile. But Santana would never be caught dead in a dress like this.

"It's very fragile, Mrs. Fabray" the seamstress complained. "We will tear it if we do too much."

"If you can't handle it, I know a perfectly good place in Little Rock that will figure out how to tailor it" Judy threatened.

Quinn felt yet another pin prick her skin and had to stop herself from ripping the needles out of the lady's hands.

"Mama, do you think I should bring Jamie to Doctor West? I don't think he's getting better" Frannie asked.

Even her voice was frail now. Quinn pitied her and hated Carlton. He had moved to one of the guest rooms so that he would get his sleep, leaving his wife with a sick son and a eighth month baby rumbling around inside her.

"He'll be fine" Judy answered, distracted by the white dress.

"Fran, I can watch him today if you like. So you can get some sleep" Quinn offered.

Frannie opened her mouth to protest, to say that it was her duty as a mother to care for her child, but Quinn cut across her.

"I want to" she lied. "I have to have practice for my own kids, right?"

Frannie looked suspicious, maybe she wasn't that dim after all, but nodded anyway. Maybe she was too tired to argue.

"Thanks, Q" she whispered.

"Sure."

"If this dress doesn't get fitted, you can wave goodbye to those kids, Quinn" Judy hissed. "You can't get married if your dress doesn't fit properly."

The anxious seamstress again mistook Quinn's flesh for a seam. She grinded her teeth.

"It looks fine, mama."

"Fine won't do it. Your wedding will be the event of the season! Brittany and her mother are flying to Miami to buy dresses."

"It's true" the seamstress piped up (Quinn wished she would focus on the needles more than talking) "Everyone's talking about it."

She looked expectantly at Judy, fishing for an invite, but received nothing.

"Better get it right then" she said harshly.

…

James Barton was two years old, fat, blonde and impossibly attached to his mother. Quinn had to wrestle him from Frannie and ignore his screaming to get him to her room. His face was red and he looked angry as hell.

"Calm down" she mumbled.

"Mommy" he screamed. "Mommy!"

"Your mommy needs to rest, okay? I'm going to take care of you."

She tried to place him on her bed but he fought her with his small fists. His body was rigid with tension.

"Hey" she told him sternly. "I know you feel ill but please don't make Frannie come up here."

Jamie cried and screamed and refused to do anything she said. The frustration was building inside Quinn.

"Just tell me what's wrong" she begged.

He cringed out of her arms and down on the bed. She couldn't even tell if he was in pain or just hated her. When the door opened, Quinn groaned with both relief and distress.

"I told you to sleep" she mumbled.

"I think you need help" Grace said.

Quinn lifted her gaze from the boy and met Grace's steady eyes. With a certainty Quinn lacked, she picked Jamie up in her arms and held him close to her chest. He whimpered a few times while she rocked him until he fell asleep. Just like that.

"How did you do that?" Quinn asked in awe.

"Children want to feel safe. There's nowhere as safe for a baby boy as against the bosom."

Oh. Kids wanted to snuggle up against a big pair of breasts. Great. Quinn would never get her future children to trust her.

"Thank you" Quinn exhaled, taking a seat on the bed and relaxing for the first time all day. "I just wanted Frannie to get some rest."

Grace nodded, still rocking Jamie in her arms. It struck Quinn that she had once rocked Quinn like this too. Held her when she was crying, changed her diaper, bathed her. Sure, Judy had been there too, but Quinn doubted she could ever sooth anyone like Grace did.

"Thanks" she said again.

"It's my job."

"To look after me?"

Grace smiled serenely.

"Yes, until someone else takes the job; I'll do it."

"You mean until I move out and get married?"  
>Grace shrugged and Quinn looked away. She should say something about Puck. About that Grace shouldn't worry about him. She should, but she didn't.<p>

"I wish you could take care of my babies too, Gracie" she whispered instead.

Grace reached out and stroked Quinn's cheek.

"Me too, Miss Quinn. Me too."

"I don't even know her, Richard's maid. I don't even know her name."

Her voice became frantic and Grace had to hush her to keep her from waking Jamie.

"It will be fine, Miss Quinn" she soothed her.

"How do you know?"

Grace's eyes weren't judging anymore. They were soft and caring and motherly.

"You will work it out. You always do."

…

When Jamie woke up again, Grace had gone home for the day and Quinn was alone. She trudged down the stairs, fighting to keep her grasp on the boy. Carlton was on the couch, half-asleep with the TV on. She dumped the baby in his lap.

"What the…" he began.

"Take care of your son" Quinn told him sternly.

"Frannie's home, right?"  
>"Yes, your pregnant, exhausted wife is home."<p>

"Good, then just give him to her."

"You're a perfect dad, aren't you?" Quinn hissed.

"You know nothing about parenting, Quinn" he smiled.

"I know enough to tell you to step up and give your son something out of the fridge."

He frowned at her, seeming not being able to tell if she was kidding or not.

"I've been working all day, building that damn shed…"

"No, Carlton, you haven't been building anything. You have been standing around and shouting at people."

In a millisecond his face flushed. She involuntarily took a step back.

"Watch your tongue" he warned her.

"You have no power over me" she hissed back.

Carlton muttered something that she couldn't understand. He got up and pressed Jamie against her, making her take him back.

"You go and feed him" he demanded.

Jamie's cries were muffled against her shirt.

"In less than a month, you'll have two children, Carlton. That's two people you set to this world that you don't give a shit about."

Before he could retort or throw something at her, she left the room.

…

The baby slept next to her all night. He groaned a few times but never woke up. She reached out and touched his small fists.

"How can my sister love you so much when all you do is cry and yell?" she asked him quietly.

Now that his face was relaxed she could see that he had Frannie's eyes. His nose was Carlton's though and his lips seemed to be his own.

"You have to promise me to be a better man than your daddy, Jamie" Quinn whispered. "You have to. Your mommy might not be the brightest, but she loves you. She knows how to love. And you have Grace, she loves you too."

Jamie rolled over in his sleep.

"And you have me" she added like an afterthought. "I don't know if I love you, I don't know if I love anyone, but I'll be here too."

Quinn closed her eyes and smiled at the thought that this was the second time she was sharing a bed with a boy.

…

Frannie took a turn for the worse the next day. A blinding headache kept her in bed all morning while Grace pressed soaked towels against her hot forehead.

"She's just exhausted" Judy said. "She needs a day's rest and she'll be back on her feet."

Quinn wasn't so sure. As she stroked her sister's face she felt that every muscle was clamped to the limit.

"Relax, Fran" she whispered.

"I'm trying" she whispered back, eyes shut.

Quinn carried Jamie on her hip. She had given up on Carlton taking any responsibility for his son, Grace was busy cleaning the silver for Christmas and Judy had just left for some club meeting. That left Quinn, again.

"Guess it's you and me again, buddy" she told Jamie.

He looked up at her with clear eyes.

"Uinn" he said softly. "Uinn play."

She tilted her head and locked down at him. She had forgotten that he could actually say incomplete sentences like this. Couldn't he have used that yesterday to explain where it hurt?

"Yes, Jamie, you and I will play today" she promised and then regretted it immediately.

She had no idea how to play with a child. He had toys of course, heaps and heaps, but they were all in the Frannie's bedroom and Quinn didn't want to disturb her.

"Car" Jamie said brightly.

"We can't get to your cars."

He pouted and continued to form his lips to make the sound of an engine. Saliva sprouted from his mouth. She tried to dry him off but he pulled back.

"Play car" he said again, louder and with more force.

"Shh" Quinn mumbled. "Your mommy's asleep."

"CAR!"

Quinn put him down on the floor. His face was turning red with anger and frustration. Had anyone ever said no to him before?

"Calm down" she tried.

He opened his mouth to wail.

"He wants to go in the car, Miss Quinn" Grace said, making her way over to them.

"Car" Jamie repeated quietly while his face was turning back to its original color.

"My car?"  
>"Any car."<p>

Quinn shrugged. Sure, why not? She had no idea what kids like and disliked. Grace had three boys of her own. Quinn wasn't one to question.

"Alright. Let's go for a drive then, Jamie."

…

The roads around the plantation weren't really roads. They were dusty gravel paths and went all around the Fabray's land. Quinn turned up the radio and opened the windows. Jamie was strapped in the backseat, so small that the seat belt didn't really cover him completely. He kept sliding around on the leather. Quinn slowed down to make him steadier. She wasn't scared to hit anything. There wasn't that much to hit.

"This is your favorite game, Jamie-bear?" she called at him.

He didn't answer but when she turned around to steal a look at him, he was smiling. Quinn shook her head.

"When you're not crying, you're not so bad" she sighed.

The new Bob Dylan song was playing on the radio. She didn't know the name of it but she had seen the record in Puck's room. He sang about change, about the world and country changing. Quinn hung on to every word, taking them as some kind of message. If the southern radio stations were brave enough to play this song, then Mr. Dylan was right. Things were changing. And when the song ended, she wanted to replay it. She wanted to buy that record and play it over and over again. And before she knew it, she turned into Puck's driveway.

…

The door was opened, almost completely against the winter winds. Quinn carefully knocked, one time, twice, three times. No one came to the door. She stepped inside with Jamie on her hip even though she knew that it wasn't one of her best ideas. It was Saturday, but for all she knew Puck worked on Saturdays too.

"Hello" she called.

She took two more steps inside, thinking she should call the police if anything was missing. The TV was still there, though. There wasn't anything else that valuable. She stepped on something soft and stopped. On the floor lay a sweatshirt, red and woolen. She picked it up with one hand as she tried to balance Jamie with the other. It was tiny, probably her size, not Puck's. Could it be his mom's?

"Hello?" she called again.

No one answered this time either but the bathroom door opened. Out stepped a stark naked, dripping wet Santana Lopez. Quinn took a step back and almost dropped Jamie on the floor. Santana didn't jump or hide. She just raised her eyebrows.

"Hello" she said tersely.

Quinn didn't know where to look. She didn't know what to say.

"Naked" Jamie giggled.

"Who are you talking to?" Puck's voice sounded.

He too stepped out of the bathroom, thankfully not naked; he had a towel wrapped low around his waist.

"Quinn Fabray" Santana told him with a slight laugh to voice.

"_What?"_ he said before seeing her. "Quinn? What are you doing here?"

"Hi" Quinn mumbled meekly. "I just wanted to ask... It doesn't matter. I'm sorry."

"Ask what?" Santana challenged her.

"San, put some fucking clothes on" Puck barked at her.

She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever you say."

She left the room and left was Puck, Quinn and Jamie. Quinn's arms were starting to ache with the strain of carrying him. Or maybe it was that most of her ached. Maybe she was getting sick too.

"I'm sorry" she said hurriedly. "I shouldn't have barged in."  
>"It's fine" he said quickly.<p>

"I'm going to go."

"What did you want to ask?"

But Quinn had already left the house. She slammed the door behind her with such force it shook dangerously on its hinges.

…

He caught up with her as she has loading Jamie into the car.

"Hey" he panted. "_Hey._"

Quinn strapped the seat belt as tight as she could around Jamie before turning to Puck. His skin was still damp from the shower, it glistened in the winter sun.

"I'll knock next time" she snapped, suddenly angry or irritated.

"What did you want to ask?"

"It doesn't matter. Go back to your girl."

She slammed the door shut, shutting Jamie out from the conversation. He was only a toddler but who know what he could tell his mama in those short sentences. _Naked _would be bad enough.

"Who's the baby?"

"Frannie's son."

"He's cute."

She made her way past him and climbed into the driver's seat. She tried to slam that door too but Puck was stronger and kept it open.

"Are you pissed at me?" he asked confused.

"No, god no. I just wasn't prepared to walk into a sex act."

He smirked

"I didn't know that you were popping by."

"Stupid me. I was unaware that some people spent their Saturdays having casual shower sex."

"Yeah" he snarled. "Well, being the Virgin Mary doesn't always pay off, does it?"

She tried to shut the door again, but he was still fighting her for it and winning.

"Are you judging me or being jealous?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes.

"Live your life like you want" she drawled. "I don't care."

"Fine" he spat at her.

"Fine."

He finally let go of the door and let her close it. As she backed out of the driveway, he stood looking after her.

"Ops" Jamie giggled.

"Yeah" she exhaled. "Ops."

…

It wasn't a surprise of course. She had known that they were a _thing_. Emma had told her, even Puck had made that clear ages ago. It shouldn't have surprised her like it had. Maybe it was the image of Santana's gorgeous, sexy, naked body coming out of his shower that had shaken her. Maybe it was that they had been too much in a hurry to even shut the front door. Maybe it was the way her clothes were strewn over the living room floor. Like they couldn't be together soon enough. Maybe it was the way Santana had grinned and taken pleasure in Quinn's shock. Maybe it was all of it. Quinn didn't know. She drove home too fast and made Jamie slide around like crazy. He giggled and smiled. She didn't.

…

Christmas arrived before Quinn could really wrap her head around it. On Christmas Eve she drove over to Richard's to exchange gifts. He gave her a novel, one she had already read but it was fine, it was a nice thought. She kissed him twice as to prove to herself that she was thankful. She handed him the briefcase Judy had found and Frannie had wrapped. He kissed her three times because he seemed to really love her and that leather bag.

"Next Christmas we'll celebrate together" he promised her.

She nodded and wondered what things would be like in a year.

"And soon, we'll have a family" he vowed. "You and me."

She stared into his face. She despised and envied how naïve he was. He embraced her roughly when she was getting ready to leave, pressing her face against his chest.

"When I have you, I won't need anything else" he told her.

She entangled herself and left.

…

Frannie's water broke on the Christmas day, two weeks early. It was during dinner that her face turned white and her chair wet and her screams filled the house. Quinn held her hand during the ride to the hospital.

"Remind me next time I start talking about babies" Frannie groaned

"Remind you what?" Quinn asked

"That it hurts."

There was no doubt in that. By the time they entered the sleepy, Christmas decorated hospital Quinn's fingers were turning blue. Carlton refused to come into the delivery room and sat down on a plastic couch with a magazine. Quinn stayed out too to take care of Jamie, leaving Frannie with their mother.

"My presents" Jamie muttered glumly.

"You're getting an even better present today, Jamie-bear" Quinn told him. "A brother or a sister."

He pouted but Quinn couldn't really hold it against him. He had just lost the opportunity to open 16 parcels for the experience of staying the night at a hospital. Anyone would be bummed out.

"I'll take him home" Carlton said. "Let him open the presents before bed."

Quinn frowned.

"You can't go home."  
>"Why not?"<p>

"Your wife is having a baby, right now."

"Thanks for the information, Quinny" he mocked her and held out his arms for his son.

"What if she delivers when you're not here?"

"I'll probably meet _it_ later" he snickered.

"You can't do that" Quinn argued, refusing to hand him his son.

He sighed loudly.

"Who was the one who _lectured _me about taking more responsibility for my son?"

"I didn't mean…"

"Give him his son Quinny for Christ's sake" Russell rumbled from the other side of the waiting room.

"But…"

"Stop meddling in other people's lives."

Quinn shot her father a furious look before giving up and handing Jamie to Carlton.

"Coming Russell?" he asked.

"Yes, yes. I won't do much good here."

Quinn watched the two men leave without looking back. She felt sick. She wondered if Richard would stick around for the birth of their child or if she would have to be alone too.

…

Laura Barton was born at 11:34 PM on Christmas Day. The nice nurse who always seemed to work showed Quinn into the Frannie's room where Judy was holding her granddaughter and Frannie was crying hysterically.

"What's wrong?" Quinn asked, peering down at the bundle in her mother's arms.

Was there something wrong with her`?

"He wanted it to be a boy" Frannie mumbled between sobs.

Quinn's whole body grew cold. She wanted to slap her sister, shake her and ask her how that could matter. But she didn't. Instead the nurse stepped forward.

"Giving birth is a very emotional experience. Mrs. Barton is still full of endorphins and adrenaline. She will feel more stable soon" she said calmly.

Quinn nodded as if she believed that.

"Where is he?" Frannie asked. "Is my husband here?"

Quinn hesitated.

"No, Fran, he isn't. He went home with Jamie. I'll go and call him."

"NO. No, Quinn, please don't."

"Why not?" Judy huffed in a no nonsense voice. "He has to know that he has a daughter."

"He'll be disappointed."

Quinn reached out and stroked the tiny cheek of the baby girl. She was prettiest baby Quinn had ever seen with big eyes and a small tuft of hair on her head. She was asleep, curled into the pink blanket that surrounded her. Quinn wanted to save her from all of this. No one should have to be born and instantly feel this kind of rejecting. It wasn't fair.

"She's beautiful, Frannie" she whispered.

Frannie craned her neck to see the baby properly.

"She is" she exhaled. "I just wish she was a boy."

…

Carlton came in just after one am. Quinn moved away from Frannie's bed, leaving room for him to step towards her and _step up_. The nice nurse was still hanging around, perhaps contemplating is she should file some kind of report against their family.

"Carlton" Frannie sighed, her face strained with hope against hope.

Her husband studied the pink blanket and the pink balloons and the pink teddy bear Quinn had bought at the gift shop before speaking.

"It's a girl" he said neutrally.

"I'm sorry" Frannie whispered. "I know you wanted a boy. We were going to name him after your father and…"

"It's not your fault" Carlton said tersely. "We'll name her Laura after my mother. And Judith after yours."

Frannie looked confused, as if she didn't know if to be relieved or sad.

"Do you want to hold her?" she asked in a small voice.

"No" he answered briskly. "She's asleep."

"Oh."

Quinn and the nurse backed out of the room and closed the door.

"That went rather well" the nurse said.

"Did it?" Quinn asked.

She was suddenly exhausted and longed for sleep.

"Must be harsh" she said "working on Christmas day."

The nurse smiled.

"I don't really celebrate Christmas that much anyway and someone has to work."

"Right" Quinn said. "Right."

"You have to take care of your sister, Ms. Fabray."

"I know, I will."

The nurse nodded and strolled towards another room.

"Wait" Quinn called. "What's your name?"

"Elisabeth" she said smiling. "You can call me Elisabeth."

"I'm Quinn."

"I know, but I think I should call you Ms. Fabray anyway."


	8. it ain't me you're looking for, babe

"Merry Christmas" Puck said on the other end of the receiver.

She jumped. She was home alone. Judy and Frannie were still at the hospital and the men had gone to some bridge club. Had he known that?

"That was yesterday" she said flatly.

"Sorry, you know us Jews, we can't keep track of all your holidays."

In all the commotion of Frannie's baby she had almost forgotten to think about him, but now all the feelings came back. Anger, humiliation, ache.

"What do you want?" she asked

"I was going to check if you were still pissed at me."

"I was never _pissed _at you."

He chuckled.

"Right…"

She rolled her eyes even if he couldn't see it.

"I know you're not Santana's biggest fan" he began.

"It's more like she hates me" Quinn interrupted.

"Yeah, whatever. But you know that she and I_ hang out_, that couldn't have as a surprise."

She bit her nails.

"No, of course not."

"I know that you're not comfortable with sex and stuff, so yeah, I'm sorry you had to see that."

"It's fine" she said. "I was just shocked."

"I get it" he said even though he clearly didn't.

She thought again of their scattered clothes on the floor. The desire they must feel for each other. How she dreaded her own wedding night.

"So, we're okay, right?"  
>"Yeah" she breathed. "Yeah, we're fine."<p>

"Good" he said brightly. "because some people are organizing this thing on new year's."

"What kind of thing?"

"It's kind of fundraiser thing so you should feel right at home."

"Ha-ha."

"We're going to lock us in the gym of my old high school and sleep on the floor and eat terrible food and drink lots of beer and some people are performing. I think it'll be fun."

"For what cause?"

"The kids, of course. It's always for the kids, right?" he mused. "We're trying to collect enough money to renovate some parts of the school that is falling apart."

"So you called your richest friend?"

He chuckled.

"The thought did strike me, but I think you'd actually enjoy it."

"It's on New Year's eve?"

"Yeah, if you don't already have plans with your beau…"

She thought of Richard. No, she hadn't made plans with him. Should she? Was their some kind of rule that she didn't know about?

"No, not really" she said vaguely.

"Great."

She bit her lip.

"Frannie had the baby" she said even if he probably wouldn't care.

"Really? You're an aunt again then."

"Yes" she exhaled. "I am."

…

Laura and Frannie came home from the hospital after three days. Grace came in on her day off to help with everything. Quinn again got the job babysit Jamie, which was much easier this time thanks to enormous pile of Christmas presents he had received. She mostly just sat next to him as he drove his cars on the floor and drew things with his new crayons. Carlton opened the door to people who came by to congratulate him and to take peek at the baby. He was always very loving then; bragging about that she didn't scream at all at night and that she was very cute. Frannie mostly lay exhausted in her bed and nodded as he spoke. But as soon as Rachel and Brittany and the others left, Carlton left the nursery for the living room and the TV. Quinn didn't say anything. She clenched her teeth and played with Jamie and hated him in silence. Frannie didn't really need her sister being unsupportive at the moment.

…

It was as she was getting ready for New Year's party that Frannie found her to talk.

"You look lovely" she breathed as she stepped into Quinn's room, wearing her light blue robe and her hair in a bun.

Quinn had probably overdressed but she had no idea what to wear to New Year's party if not a black dress and sparkly jewelry.

"Thank you" she said.

Frannie hovered on the threshold before coming inside and closing the door behind her. She sat down on Quinn's bed and watched her brush out her hair.

"Is Laura sleeping?" Quinn asked.

"Yes, mama's watching her for me."

"Good."

Quinn continued to get ready, pulling on shoes and applying mascara and lipstick.

"I don't think he loves her, Quinny" Frannie whispered.

Her face was pale and she looked much older than she was. Much older than she had looked just a week ago.

"She's his daughter, Fran. He has to love her" Quinn argued.

"He doesn't look at her, doesn't touch her. He never calls her by her name, just calls her _the baby_."

Quinn stepped away from the mirror and sat down next to her sister who was wringing her hands in distress.

"You're supposed to love your children" Frannie whispered quietly.

"I know."

"I don't think he loves me anymore either, Quinn."

"Of course he does."

"No. I don't think he has in while, maybe not even since Jamie was born."

Quinn searched her sister's face. Big tears dripped down her cheeks and landed on the soft fabric of the robe.

"Why do you think that?" Quinn asked carefully.

"It's just a feeling. It's not the same as before."

"Of course it's not the same. You're married now, with kids, it's can't be like when you met."

Frannie nodded slowly.

"I know, I know. I try to tell myself that too. But… He _wanted_ me before."

"You _just _had a baby. You probably shouldn't do _that_ yet anyway."

Frannie actually smiled a tiny smile.

"It's been like this for ages. He wanted another son; that's why we kept trying. But after I got pregnant, he hasn't touched me."

Quinn had no idea how to respond. She knew nothing about any of this.

"I'm sorry, Fran, but I'm probably the worst person you could ask for advice. I know nothing about sex or love or anything."  
>"Maybe not, but you're the only one who takes my side."<p>

Quinn stroked her sister's cheek and pulled her into a hug. Frannie spelled like baby puke and tears.

"You should confront him" she suggested.

Frannie shook her head.

"No, I can't. I can't lose him. I just can't."  
>Quinn opened her mouth to argue but her sister excused herself quickly and left.<p>

…

Puck picked her up outside the gates. She wasn't that worried that anyone would see her. Judy and Russell had already left for a party and Carlton was asleep on the couch.

"Get in, we're late" Santana shouted out of the passenger's seat.

Quinn opened one of the backseat doors and slid in. Emma and Kendra were already there and greeted her warmly.

"Hey" Puck said from the driver's seat, smiling at her in the rearview mirror.

She smiled back.

"Hey."

She hadn't seen him (or Santana) since she had seen them together and the memory was still embarrassing. Despite all that, it was still good to see him. It was comforting to see his face and inhale his smell.

"What happens if we're late?" she asked

"Then they lock the door before we get in" Santana told her. "And then we have to stand outside and freeze our asses off."  
>"Don't be overdramatic" Puck sighed. "People are never on time for these things."<p>

Quinn bit her lips as she listened to them bicker; like an old married couple with serious issues. She thought of Carlton not wanting to sleep with Frannie anymore. She wondered how Santana and Puck had been able to keep it going all these years. Maybe she should ask for tips.

"What are you thinking about?" Emma asked.

"Nothing" Quinn said too quickly and almost blushed.

Emma raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Instead Puck cranked up the radio and then no one could think or talk for the entire drive.

…

The gym was on the verge of falling in on itself. Quinn's gym in high school had had bleachers and a new wooden floor and light changing rooms; this school had a medium sized shed with two lopsided basketball hoops.

"Did you go here?" she asked as they lay down their bags on the floor.

"Yeah" Puck said.

The smell of sweat and mold gave Quinn a head ache within minutes and the fact that people were smoking freely inside didn't help. She wished someone could open a window.

"Cheer up, darling" Santana said, bumping her hip. "Must be eye-opening to be away from the country clubs for a night."

"Hey" Puck said softly to make Santana back off, but she did have a point.

Except the bar and Puck's small house, Quinn had really no idea what it was like to not be white and rich. All her friends had parents who had good jobs and owned their own houses and donated money to save children in Africa. No one had ever told her that a few miles down the road lay a school in this condition. In one swift movement, she emptied the content of her wallet into the donation bucket, doubling what was already in there.

"And now I filled my obligations" she joked.

She spread out her sleeping bag on the thin mattress her father used to use for camping when he was younger. With a single look, she could determine that her gear was the most expensive. She tried to hide the brand name under a bag.

"Don't feel bad because you have things" Puck said, spotting her.

"It's hard not to" she answered.

"Relax" he told her softly.

"I overdressed as usual" she muttered.

"Well, it's your style, right? Knee-length dresses and pearl necklaces and curls in your hair."

She scowled.

"You make me sound like my mother."

He laughed, reached out. pulling at her hair playfully. She leaned into his touch, his warmth, the smell of his fingers.

"You're right" she exhaled. "I could never pull off those shorts Santana's wearing."

Puck turned to inspect his friend's very short, very tight shorts.

"I would like to see you try."

"Shut up."

…

Within a few hours, the gym became a gas chamber. It was incredibly hot and steamy. Quinn's makeup had started to smudge with sweat and she had to wash it off in the disgusting bathroom. It was smoky too, thanks to cigarettes and a smoke machine that one of the bands has brought. You could barely see six feet in front of you and Quinn kept bumping into people.

"Can someone please open the door?" she croaked to Emma.

"I think that dissolves the purpose of a lock in" she smiled back, her hair plastered to her forehead.

"At this point, I don't really get what the purpose is."

They sat down by their things, took their shoes off and pulled their hair from their faces. The bluegrass band that had been playing for the last hour said thank you and left the stage.

"If someone doesn't open these fucking windows; I will refuse to sing" a voice said in the mic.

Santana. Some people laughed, some booed, but magically, some guy climbed to up the high set row of windows and opened each one. It took about three minutes before Quinn felt the first whiff of fresh air.

"Thank god for Santana Lopez" Kendra mumbled from behind them, where she was sitting with her fiancée.

Yes. Thanks to her, Quinn could breathe again. The fog and smoke slowly cleared out into the cold night. She searched the room for Puck and spotted him up on stage with Santana. He was sitting down with his guitar on his lap, looking serious for once.

"Are they going to play?" she asked.

"Santana's going to sing" Emma shrugged.

Quinn remembered Puck telling her, ages ago, that he had learned to play the guitar form Santana. The memory made Quinn feel nauseous. She imagined him playing for her the first time, the way she pulled her clothes off in gratitude… No, she didn't want to think about that.

"Is she any good?" she asked nonchalantly.

At that moment, the band consisting of three guys including Puck, started playing. It was a jazzy type of song, the kind that Quinn's grandmother had loved. All the talk and laughter died down for the first time that evening. And then Santana Lopez started singing. Her voice was raspy and deep and pure. People stared up at her as she moved in her tiny shorts and revealing tank top. Everyone was staring at her, transfixed. Even Puck. He was playing and looking at her, smiling serenely as she sang. He looked proud. Quinn wanted to leave but there was no way to go. The doors were locked. She was trapped.

…

"San, you were amazing as always" Emma exclaimed, hugging her friend.

"How 'bout me, Em? Wasn't I great?" Puck said, nudging her.

"Of course you were."

"What did you think, Quinn?" he asked her. "Did I do well?"

She smiled carefully.

"Honestly, I doubt anyone would have noticed if you had messed up. They were all obsessed with her."

She heard the envy in her own voice and hoped he hadn't.

"Yeah" he breathed, sitting down next to her. "I know."

"Does it bother you?"

"Nah, not really. This is her thing; not mine."

Santana came over, bent down and kissed Puck roughly on the mouth.

"God, I was good" she said.

"As always" Puck replied.

She vanished again,

"You two should get married" Quinn said bitterly.

He flinched and looked at her with a quizzical look on his face.

"Who?"

"You and Santana."

"Why?"

"People fall out of love over time; you two haven't. You're lucky."

Puck snickered.

"I don't love her."

"Yes, you do. I'm the worst person to determine love, but even I can see it. You're so comfortable around her each other, like it's natural, like breathing. You learned to play the guitar for her, if that doesn't scream romance; what does?"

"Is this because of what you walked into the other day? Because that's not romantic, it's…"

She cut him off.

"I don't really want to know. I've already talked about sex today with my sister, I've filled my quota."

"What did she say?"

"Something about how her husband doesn't want to touch her, how it's not the same as it was before, how she's not sure if he loves her anymore."

"Carlton is an asshole."

She nodded.

"Yes."

"We just work together, me and San. We just click, maybe that's why it still works. It doesn't have to have anything to do with love."

She shrugged.

"Maybe not."

"Hey" he said softly to her. "Don't be sad."

"Okay."

"I like your face like this, all blotchy and red."

"Gee, thanks."

He grinned and she couldn't help but smile back.

"I like it because you feel more like me now."

"Shut up."

"No, I'm actually serious. In your pretty clothes and carefully curled hair, I feel intimidated, scared shitless.

"You were the one who said that was my style just three hours ago" she pointed out.

"I know, I know. I'm not making any sense."

He leaned in and kissed her carefully. It was their first kiss of 1963. Their first kiss since she had seen him naked with Santana.

"I can't" she mumbled. "I can't do this when I know that you'll do the same to her tomorrow."

He looked at her intently.

"Why does that bother you?"

"I don't know. It just does."

"Is it because it's her or because of something else? I'm not the one who is engaged, y'know."

She evaded her eyes. She hated him for pulling the Richard card.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be" he said, smiling.

He got up and left her on the floor.

…

"I just had sex with Puck in one of the locker rooms" Santana drawled as she lay down next to Emma at four in the morning.

Quinn had been on the verge of sleep, but was now suddenly wide awake.

"Good for you" Kendra retorted from the mattress she shared with Brian.

Quinn thought of the night she had spent in Puck's bed. The way he had held her in his sleep, the way he had kissed her, how safe she had felt.

"It felt like being back in high school; people banging on the door, him coming too quickly…"

"We don't need the specifics" Emma mumbled sleepily.

"Maybe you don't, Ems, but what about Quinn? Don't you wanna know?"

Quinn took a deep breathe. She hated Santana. Hated her. Hated her for pressing all the right buttons. Or all the wrong ones.

"No, not really" she said.

"Oh right, I forgot, you're engaged. Wedding is in three months, right?"

"Yes."

"Santana, what's your point?" Kendra asked annoyed.

"I don't really have one to be honest. I just don't understand why she keeps coming with us, kissing him when she has a fiancée."

No one said anything. Quinn had nothing to say. Nothing in her defense.

"Maybe we're just good company" Brian said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Or maybe she's fucking with him. Playing all she can before she signs her life over to someone she doesn't love. Are you looking for some last bit if excitement, Q?"

"That's enough."

Puck's voice was deep and the gravest she had ever heard him. Quinn saw Santana shrug.

"Fine" she said.

Their area went quiet. Puck was still standing a few feet from where they all were lying. He crouched down and patted Quinn's shoulder.

"Can we talk?" he mumbled.

She wanted to say no, but nodded. He pulled her to feet and they headed out of the gym. Puck unlocked the door and they stepped out into the night.

"I don't think we're allowed to do that" Quinn said quietly.

"I didn't think you would have wanted to talk in the locker rooms."

"No, not really."

He looked angry or mad or sad. She couldn't tell in the night.

"She's testing you" he said. "Seeing if you will break and fight her over me."

"I know."

"I'm testing you too, I guess."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I had sex with her because I knew that she would tell you. I guess I wanted to see how you would react."

"You know how I reacted the last time."

He sighed.

"Is it a sex thing, a Santana thing or has it do with me?"  
>She could smell the sweat on his skin. Was it<em> hers<em>?

"All three, I guess."

He nodded. She nodded back.

"I'm sorry" she said. "I shouldn't have come tonight."

"Why not?"

"I don't know what I'm doing."

He took a deep breath.

"I like you, you're fun and smart and you make me laugh. I'm not going to marry you or fall in love with you, but I like you. Do you like me?"

She nodded. Yes, she did like him. Right now, he was about the only person she really liked.

"Okay. Good. There's nothing wrong with being with people who make you happy."

"Okay" she said.

"We are friends, right?"

"Right."

"Will we still be friends after you get married?"  
>"I don't know" she said honestly.<p>

He nodded.

"Okay."

He embraced her and she pressed her face into his shoulder. He didn't smell like Santana, he smelled like himself.

…

Richard held Baby Laura awkwardly in his arms. Quinn realized that between them, she knew the most about babies, which was not good news for their future kids.

"She's lovely, Frannie" he said.

He fit with her family, she could tell. Russell had poured him some scotch, clapped him on the back and handed him a cigar. Richard leaned back against the couch and lifted Laura against the ceiling. She was asleep.

"It's not long before you'll have one of your own" Russell said, nodding and grinning.

"I can't wait to marry your daughter, Mr. Fabray."

"And I can't wait to spend too much money on your wedding."

They laughed together and Carlton joined in.

"You better prepare, Rich. Quinn is a bit of a handful."  
>Quinn rolled her eyes. He had never forgiven her for telling him he was a terrible father, but then again, she hadn't forgiven him for being one.<p>

"Don't scare him off" Russell joked. "Wait until he said 'I do' to tell him the truth about her."

Quinn felt fed up with them, all of them. She didn't want them to make fun of her, laugh at her when she was standing right here. But she didn't do anything. She just took it, swallowed it all, because what else could she do?

"Don't worry" Richard said. "Nothing you tell will make me stop wanting to marry her."

He extended his hand and patted her knee. It was a nice gesture, comforting and sweet, but it made her even madder. She didn't need his approval.

"Just you wait" Carlton chuckled, like he was some kind of mastermind when it came to marriage.

Richard fitted perfectly with them. She didn't.

…

"Hey, Fabray, wait up."

She turned her head to her right and spotted Santana, walking up the snow covered road to the gates. Quinn hadn't even known that Santana knew where she lived.

"Taking a walk?" Quinn asked, attempting to be as cold and snarky as Santana usually was.

"Nope, came to see you, actually. You busy?"

"No, not really."  
>Actually, she had stepped outside to get away from everyone inside. All the men had had too much whisky and she hated them drunk; they were even worse when alcohol made them mean and slurry and even lazier. Judy and Frannie sat nicely next to their husbands, letting them put their hands on their chests for a few seconds too long for it to be kosher. Quinn couldn't stand it.<p>

"We need to talk" Santana said.

"About what?"  
>"You know what. Can we go inside? I'm freezing my ass off."<p>

"No, we can't."

"Fine, let's walk then."

Santana took a few strides on the small path that Quinn and Puck had walked once, ages ago.

"I don't hate you" Santana said. "If that's what you think."

"Okay."

"I just don't trust you."

"Okay."

"Puck hasn't told you this; but his father bailed on his mom. He was black and she was white and he couldn't handle the society's wrath against them."

"I know."  
>Santana raised her eyebrows in disbelief.<p>

"You know?"  
>"He told me."<p>

"Why?"

"I asked him."

Quinn stared into the snow. It was watery and would probably melt soon. That meant spring. And spring meant that the wedding was just around the corner.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that, but that's better. Then you get it."

"No" Quinn said honestly. "Not really."

"His whole life has been about race, about being biracial in this horrible town. And then you come along, as white as this fucking snow, and you are messing with his head."

"I'm not" Quinn said quietly.

"You're engaged, Quinn. He knows that and you know that, but you keep on doing whatever you do."

"That has nothing to do with race."

Santana suddenly stopped and yanked Quinn's arm until she stopped too.

"Would ever consider telling your friends about him? Your parents? Marrying him?"

"It's not like that…"

"I'm his best friend; I can't watch him get fucked over because of his skin color again."

"You're not just his friend, Santana" Quinn snapped.

She shrugged.

"You know nothing about me and Puck, darling."

"And you know nothing about me and him."

"Touché."  
>Santana opened her mouth and caught a snowflake on her tongue. Quinn stared up into the sky too. It was milky white.<p>

"I'm not your competition, Quinn" Santana said.

Quinn said nothing. She felt the cold flakes fall onto her face and melt on her skin.

"I love him more than anything in the world, but not in that way."

"That's not what it looks like."

"He makes me feel safe. Being with him is like curling up on the couch with your cat and watching a movie. Sex is great, wonderful and shit, but I'm not in love with him."

"Really" Quinn said tonelessly.

"Yes, _really_. I like girls, Quinn."

Santana's cheeks turned pink as she said it, the first time that Quinn had ever seen her a bit shy.

"_Oh_."

"So, I'm not your competition, but I will kill you if you fuck him over."

"Okay."

Santana hastily turned and headed back towards the main road.

"Well, Fabray" she called with her back turned. "I guess I do trust you. You're only the second person I've ever told about being gay."

…

Rachel held her baby Leroy tight in her arms, as if someone was going to steal him away from her. Brittany made faces at him, trying to make him laugh. Quinn hadn't met her friends in forever. For some reason, it was kind of relaxing to sit in Rachel's sterile kitchen and eating banana bread. With them; she wasn't the rich, white girl.

"Darl, we've missed you" Rachel said, patting Quinn's hand motherly. "What have you been up to?"

"Planning the wedding" Quinn answered vaguely. "And Frannie had the baby."  
>The two safest topics in this crowd; babies and weddings. They could talk for ages about those two things; freeing Quinn from answering more in detail what she'd been doing.<p>

"I can't wait for all of you to see my dress" Brittany gushed. "Me and mama flew to Miami to get it."

"As long as it isn't prettier than the bride's" Rachel warned her seriously. "Don't steal the spotlight on Quinn's day."  
>That was the worst thing that could happen in their world, no, in her world, she as a part of it. She was one of the girls who had never had to have cheerleading practice inside a moldy shed instead of glossy gym. She too had wealthy parents and her own car and money in the bank.<p>

"I'm wearing my mother's dress" Quinn said.

"That's so sweet" June smiled. "I wish I would have been able to my wear my mother's but she was pregnant when she got married."

"Oh, what a scandal" Rachel teased.

June smiled.

"Yes, I know. Jeff was almost born out of wedlock, as I tell him as often as I can."

"But there's no chance you'll be pregnant on your wedding day, is it?" Rachel asked, raising one eyebrow.

"No" Quinn said sternly. "No."

"You were always the most graceful of us" Rachel sighed.

"You didn't wait?"

"Oh no. I mean, I wanted to, but you know, I was young."

They all giggled knowingly, except Quinn. She didn't get it. She didn't want to rip Richard's clothes off. She actually didn't even want him to touch her.

"The wedding night will be magical" Rachel said, winking.

…

As she left Rachel's house, night had fallen. She felt empty and full at the same time. Listening to friends talk about their husbands and their children made her feel strange. Not repulsed or condescending. Maybe envious. Because they were happy, they were completely and utterly happy. Quinn liked their husbands; she had herself dated Finn ages ago and he was sweet to Rachel. Brittany had married a friend of her father's, Kevin, who told jokes and worked with oil. They were nice men, but Quinn couldn't understand how her friends could love them so much. What had fallen into place between them to make them love each other? Richard was nice too, but she didn't love him either. People kept telling her she was lucky to have him, that he was perfect for her. She didn't see it, didn't get it. Maybe she was the odd one out. The one who couldn't understand love.

…

"You're not the only one" Puck said.

She closed her eyes.

"You love someone."

"Yeah, but so do you. You love your family."

"I'm not sure I do" she said.

"You can't help but love your family. I love my mama to death, obviously, but I love my dad too. I hate him but I love him too. It's in my DNA."

"Maybe they're all making in up" she said, smiling and opening her eyes again. "I mean, I used to think Frannie and Carlton had the perfect marriage and now, they're falling apart. Maybe everyone is lying to us, maybe no one loves anyone."

"Yeah, right" Puck said, yawning. "And Kendra and Brian _hate _each other."

She laughed.

"Maybe they're the exception."  
>"Or maybe we are" he said, shrugging, saying exactly what she had thought earlier.<p>

She didn't know how she had ended up on his couch. She hadn't called first this time either, but thankful no naked Santana had stormed out of the bathroom. He had been home, watching a football game on TV after a long day of work.

"Am I invited to your wedding?" he asked suddenly.

"Do you want to come?"

"I don't know. Emma's invited right?"

"Yes."

"She's your friend, I'm your friend."

She tried to find something in his face that explained this question. They never spoke about the wedding.

"Do you want to come?" she asked again.

"There'll be good food, right? And beer? And I'll see you in a pretty dress."

"An old, catholic dress" she corrected him.

"Perfect for the virgin Mary then, eh?"

She punched his shoulder; he wrestled himself on top of her on the couch. His lips met hers before she could plan it, prepare herself. She relaxed her limbs and let him win the fight.

"I don't want to come to your wedding" he whispered against her throat.

"I'm not sure I want you to come either" she whispered back.

She pressed her lips onto his hot skin, tasting the sweat that had trickled down his forehead during the day.

"We should stop this" he said.

She pulled back from him. Disappointment and humiliation spread inside her. He wanted this to end; she didn't.

"Now?"  
>"No, but before you get married."<br>"April 14th" she said.

"April 14th, yeah" he mumbled.

"It has to stop by then" she agreed, because it made sense, this was already wrong, being married and cheating would be even worse.

"April 13th then" he smiled, a too big and broad smile for the occasion.

She kissed him again, feeling the clock tick in her mind. It was already the middle of January.

…

"Can I hear you play again sometime?" he asked. "The piano, I mean."

"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

She hadn't practiced in months, hadn't thought about Mozart or Shubert in ages. Other things had crowded them out.

"You were good" he shrugged. "I like music. Do I need a better reason?"

She sighed.

"I don't like playing in front of people. I'm not Santana Lopez who _thrives_ on the attention."

There was no real venom behind her words now. Santana was still the biggest bitch in this part of the South and Quinn was still a bit afraid of her; but strangely enough, the moment that Santana had confessed her sexuality, Quinn had stopped disliking her.

"Well, that's her thing. Kendra and Brian are freakishly in love. Emma is helplessly kind. And Santana sings. We each have other things."

"What's yours?" she asked.

He chuckled.

"I mess up. That was all did through high school anyway. Fought and got arrested and cheated on tests. It's a miracle I got out with my diploma in the end."

"That can't be your thing" Quinn argued.

"What do think it is then?"

She shook her head, she didn't know. She didn't even know what her own thing was. He smiled at her and leaned in kiss her forehead.

"You didn't know me back then. You wouldn't have liked the person I was. Angry as hell at my dad, taking it out on teachers and windows and drinking too much. I don't think you would have liked that person at all."

She bit her lip.

"I like you now."

He pressed his forehead against hers for just a few seconds. His breath was hot on her face. She felt close to him in a way she had never felt before.

"I'll play you something" he said, breaking their skin contact and picking up his guitar from the floor.

He strummed a few chords, tuning the instrument.

"I just learned to play this today. Santana wants to do a duet of it at some town fare."

She rested her head against a sofa cushion as he began to play. She didn't recognize the song at all. He played and sang and she watched him. She loved how focused his face was, how his fingers moved to quickly over the strings, how his lips formed words.

"Did you like it?" he asked. "It's a Bob Dylan song, a new one."

"Yeah" she exhaled. "Yeah, it was great. What's it called?"

"_It ain't me, babe_."

…

_ok._

_three things;_

_1. sorry for the time between updates lately. i've been working a lot but i promise to get better. _

_2. there are slight errors in time in this story. the times they are a changing (the song quinn was listening to as she drove to puck's in the last chapter) and it ain't me, babe weren't actually released until 1964. let's all just ignore that, shall we?_

_3. how good wasn't mark salling in last night's ep of glee? poor, wonderful puck. i was so pleased that he FINALLY got a scene like that (only took three years!). and did you see the promo for 3x22? QUICK._

_ok  
>thanks for everything<em>


	9. go lightly from the ledge, babe

Richard leaned across the restaurant table with a big smile on his face.

"I have news" he said.

"What kind of news?" she asked, trying to sound like she really cared what car he was going to buy or what his college friend had won on the lottery.

"I got a job offer, a really good one."  
>"But you already have a job?"<p>

"Yes, but this job is better. I'd make twice of what I make now."

Quinn realized that she really had idea what Richard did for a living. She knew that he worked with money at a big financial company in town, but that was it. She resented him for pronouncing her last name wrong; while herself not knowing what he worked with. God, they were a tragic couple.

"What kind of job is it?" she asked, actually feeling bad for not knowing about what he spent his days working.

"An executive job. I applied ages ago and they finally made their decision."

"That's great" she said, patting his hand as a devoted fiancée should.

"There's just one thing."

"What?"

"It's in Dallas."

"What is?"  
>"The job. It's in Dallas. We would have to move."<p>

Quinn stared at his face; not comprehending what he was telling her.

"We can't move" she told him. "We can't."

"It's a great opportunity for me, Quinn. I'd make more money; be able to take care of you better."

"I don't need you to take care of me" she hissed.

Richard sighed, as if he was talking to a little girl that kept telling him unicorns existed.

"Is this one of your feminist rants? I'm sorry, babe, but without money it's hard to live. It's nothing sexist about that."  
>"You have money" she argued. "My father was money. Money is the last thing we need."<br>"You're wrong. We need money. I have a mortgage to pay, we're having the biggest wedding in town history and one day, we'll want to send our kids to college."  
>She opened her mouth to argue but he cut across her.<p>

"And I'm sorry for saying this, Quinn, but you don't know how to live without money. Without getting food served by a maid or your lawn mowed or not being able to buy all those pretty dresses."

He stared at her challengingly and she looked away. He was right. And she hated that he was right.

"I could work too" she tried.

"You would never make enough for all the things we want."

She looked around inside the fancy restaurant; at the handsome gentlemen in suits and the beautiful ladies in gowns. At the gourmet food and luxurious wines. At herself, in her expensive dress and diamond jewelry and the hair that Grace had helped her with.

"I don't want to go to Dallas" she said, more calm now.

"Why not?"

"My life is here. My family and my friends. My _life_ is here."

"We'll make our own life; our own family."

She couldn't look at him. She knew that he was doing this because he thought it was best for them. He wasn't doing it to spite her. But nevertheless; the thought of moving away with only him made her shake with fear. She didn't know him, didn't love him and never would.

"Sleep on it, 'kay" he said, leaning over and kissing her cheek.

"Okay" she exhaled, knowing it wouldn't really matter what she thought.

…

"Dallas, huh?" Puck said.

"Yes" she replied.

"That's exciting."  
>"Yes."<p>

"A new town with new people."

"Yes."

"Can you say anything else than _yes_? It's freaking me out."

"I don't know what to say" she admitted.

They sat in his car just outside the gates. It was night and she couldn't sleep. He probably could but she had called him anyway. Who else could she call?

"Look; I've moved a lot, looking for work. It always works out. You'll meet people and make friends. "

"If you have a job maybe. I'll be cooped up inside, breeding small Richard's for the rest of my life."

"If you really don't wanna move, tell him."

"It doesn't matter what I think" she said. "It's already decided."  
>"Are you sure?" he said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "I mean, I've never met your fiancée, but he must love you. He wouldn't do anything that you don't want to."<p>

They never talked about Richard. Puck taunted her with the name a lot but they never spoke about him; who he was, what he liked, if he loved her.

"He doesn't love me. He loves the idea of me. The beautiful, devoted housewife that will give him children and make dinner for him every night."

Puck chuckled.

"Can you even cook?"  
>"That doesn't matter. The maid will make the food; I'll just serve it and we'll pretend I made it" she muttered sarcastically.<p>

He reached over and draped one arm around her shoulders. His touch was comforting; just like she had hoped when she called him at 2 AM.

"Dallas is a nice town; I've been there, building a new library."

"I hate it" she mumbled. "I've never been there, but I already hate it."

"Well, Ms. Fabray, I think you have a slight attitude problem."

She smiled a faint smile.

"Maybe when you're alone with him; you'll actually fall in love" Puck said carefully.

"Not possible."

"You don't know that."

She didn't argue because he couldn't understand how she felt about Richard. She didn't love him or hate him. She felt nothing; he could leave her life tomorrow and she'd never think of it again.

"Do you think I should go then?"

"No, of course not. I want you to stay. Even if it won't be same after you get married and have bunch of blonde babies; I still want you around."

His voice was soft and she pressed her face into his arm as he spoke. The hair on his skin tickled her chin and she pulled in the scent of him. She wanted to be around him too.

"Do you really want to know that I think you should do?" he asked bravely.

She nodded.

"I think you should call off the wedding" he said, making her stomach lurch. "I don't think you should marry someone you don't love; that you're convinced you'll never love."  
>"I know."<p>

"Okay."

She looked away from him, not being able to meet his gaze. He was right, of course. She should have stopped seeing Richard after their first date, the one when he had first ordered her white wine and chicken. Or she should have declined his proposal. Or something. Now; it was too late.

"There's a new library in Dallas, you say" she whispered. "Good. I like libraries."  
>Puck didn't answer.<p>

…

"Hold me" she whispered even though his arms were already around her.

"I am."

"I know."

Morning was just around the corner as they crept into his bed. He had to be at work in a few hours but she didn't want to be alone. She didn't ask him to sleep on the couch and he didn't offer. Instead she pressed her cold feet against his shins and felt on his hands across her chest.

"Can you hold me tighter?"

"I thought you didn't like sharing a bed. Here you are; making me move closer" he snickered.

"Things change."

"True."

She felt him kiss the back of her neck tenderly. It made a shiver run down her spine.

"I don't to waste any time" she told him. "This is all we have left."

"I know."

She shifted so that she was facing him. His eyes were closed. She traced her finger over his eyebrows and mouth and eyelids.

"I wish things didn't have to change" he mumbled sleepily.

"Me neither."

"Don't get married then."

It wasn't a real suggestion, more of joke, but it made turn her back on him. He didn't understand. She couldn't just leave everything now. A wedding was planned. Dresses and food and entertainment were already paid for. She had promised to marry Richard; to become his wife; to come with him to that hotel suite afterwards and let him take her virginity.

"Goodnight" she mumbled.

He was already asleep.

…

"Do you actually get up at 5:30?" she groaned.

"No" Puck said, getting out of bed. "I normally get up at five but someone kept me up all night and I was tired."

She watched him through half-closed eyes as he pulled on pants and a shirt.

"Breakfast?" he offered.

"I'm asleep."

"I'll make you eggs."

"Really? When do you have to be at work?"  
>"Oh shit, you're right. No time for eggs. I'll make you toast."<p>

He extended her hand and pulled her to her feet. She was wearing her nightgown, white and soft. She hadn't bothered to change after calling him last night. He examined her.

"Oh Lord, the virgin Mary is resurrected in Quinn Fabray."

"Shut up."

He opened the door the kitchen and they stepped out. Quinn froze on the threshold. In the kitchen, with her back to them, stood a woman. She was small and had dark hair and was frying eggs in a saucepan.

"Your mom" Quinn exhaled.

"Shit. I forgot about her being here."

The woman turned at the sound of his voice and Quinn recognized her immediately. The nurse. The nurse who had helped Frannie with the baby and when Jamie was ill and that was called Elizabeth. The one who didn't celebrate Christmas, of course, because was Jewish.

"Ms. Fabray" she said and her tone was cold, much colder than Quinn had ever heard her before.

"You know each other?" Puck asked, looking confused and a bit embarrassed.

"She helped deliver Frannie's daughter" Quinn whispered.

She didn't understand why Puck's mother looked angry. Maybe she didn't like her son having girls sleep over; but it couldn't be a surprise anymore. Santana must have slept over a thousand times.

"We've met a few times" Elizabeth Puckerman said, her voice controlled. "Quinn even asked me advice on what doctor to turn to when she has her own children."

And then Quinn understood. Frannie or herself or anyone must have mentioned Richard. Or maybe they hadn't; maybe she had just seen the diamond ring on Quinn's finger.

"That's nice" Puck said uncertainly, looking between them with a growing confusion on his face.

"Can we go now?" Quinn asked, her heart beating too fast for her own liking.

"Eh, sure" Puck agreed.

They walked through the living room and out the door.

"That was weird" he said, unlocking his truck.

"She knows about Richard."  
>"How?"<p>

"I don't know. I've might have said something, I can't remember. She knows, Puck, what if she tells?"

"She won't."  
>He started the engine and backed out of the drive way.<p>

"How do you know?"  
>"Because it would probably hurt me more than you if it came out."<p>

He had a point. She relaxed a tiny bit as they drove.

"That's your mother, then" she said.

"Yes" he said curtly.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No" he assured her. "No, not at you. I'm just pissed the world."

"Why?"  
>"Because I wanted her to like you."<p>

His fingers tapped nervously in the steering wheel. She wanted to still them with her hand; make him calm down, but his face was closed up and hard. She was scared of that he would do if she tried. He drove too fast and skidded on the wet road for a few feet before regaining control.

"The brakes are fucked" he growled.

"You should buy a new truck" she said. "You'll get yourself killed."  
>"I'll be fine."<p>

"Maybe you will; with your thick head, but what about your passengers?" she teased, trying to make him smile.

"I can't buy a new truck just for you, Quinn" he joked darkly.

She said nothing, just raised her eyebrows and stared out of the window. It was still dark out. She hadn't been up this early since she was a baby.

"It was a joke" he told her.

"I know."  
>"Why aren't you laughing?"<br>"It wasn't very funny."

…

"Miss Quinn" Grace called as Quinn stepped inside the house.

She hadn't counted on anyone one being up this early. Grace normally didn't start work until eight.

"Grace… Why are you here?"  
>"Ms. Frannie called my last night and asked me to come in early. Baby Laura ain't been sleeping well."<p>

"Oh, right."

Grace's eyes traveled over Quinn's body; over her nightgown and her ruffled hair. Her mouth tightened a fraction.

"Been sleepwalking, Miss Quinn?" she asked.

"Something like that."

"You should lock your door."

"I'll keep that in mind."  
>"I don't think Mr. Adams would like his wife to wander around in her nightgown."<p>

"No, he probably wouldn't."

Grace nodded shortly and turned her back, heading towards the nursery.

"He wants us to move" Quinn said quietly. "To Dallas."

Grace slowly turned back to face her.

"Who, Miss Quinn?"

"Mr. Adams, Richard. He got a job offer in Dallas. He wants us to move."

Quinn watched the maid's face as she realized what she was saying. Shock, horror and then sadness. All within seconds.

"Then you tell him that you're staying."

"It doesn't matter what I think, Grace. I can be his wife anywhere."

"Of course it matters what you think! You're Quinn Fabray."

Quinn smiled sadly.

"I'm afraid that doesn't matter much."

"But it does" Grace insisted. "You're the smartest and most beautiful girl here. You can make things change."

Quinn shook her head slowly.

"It won't matter; _I_ won't matter. Staying for me will never be a valid reason. Everyone will encourage him to leave; he'll have no choice."

Grace grabbed Quinn's hand and held in tight between hers.

"And if I refuse, I'm being selfish. He wants this. I promised to marry him. I should make him happy."

"Why are you saying these things?" Grace said in a hushed tone. "You don't love him; you owe him nothing."

Quinn didn't say anything for almost a minute. It was quiet. She heard the voices and laughs of the workers outside. She listened hard for Puck but couldn't hear him.

"I could do a lot worse than Richard" she said, echoing her mother's words.

"Yes" Grace said. "And a lot better."

"Grace? Can you help, please?" Frannie's voice sounded from the nursery.

"Oh yes, Miss Frannie. I'm sorry."

Quinn crept up to her room and into her bed. Her sheets were soft and ice cold. She had promised Richard to sleep on the idea, and because she hadn't really slept all night, she thought she might honor that promise.

…

Rachel covered her mouth in surprise.

"You're _leaving_?"

"Yes, April 30th. Richard starts his job on the first of May." Quinn said without any emotion at all. She had said it so many times over the last few days that it didn't really mean anything anymore. People all reacted differently. Her mother had cried of happiness for some reason, her father had said something about Richard being a good man and Frannie had turned very quiet. She sat next to Quinn now, in Brittany's kitchen, as she told her two other friends.

"Forever?" Brittany asked.

"I guess so."  
>"That's exciting" Rachel squealed. "A brand new house to decorate and everything."<p>

Brittany still looked confused; like she didn't really understand the meaning in Quinn leaving. But that was fine, Quinn didn't really get it either.

"But that's so far away" Brittany mumbled.

"Not that far away" Rachel hurried to say.

"No, not that far away" Quinn echoed.

Frannie was still very quiet.

"I don't get it" Brittany tried again. "Why?"  
>"You'll have to excuse my baby" Brittany's husband Kevin called from the kitchen. "She ain't very bright."<p>

"It's fine" Quinn told her friend, covering her hand with her own. "I don't really understand it either."

"Maybe you shouldn't go then" Frannie whispered.

"I don't really have a choice" Quinn smiled, as if it was funny.

"I need you here."

"Come on, Fran" Rachel giggled. "You and Quinn have never been that close. You won't notice her being gone."

Frannie's eyes filled with tears. Quinn wanted to slap Rachel's cheek, scream at her that things had changed, that they understood each other in new way now.

"We're sisters" she said simply. "You can't understand it; you're an only child."  
>Rachel shrugged.<p>

"Fair enough."  
>Brittany's maid poured them more ice tea. Quinn hadn't touched her glass all this time. She was nervous, she had more people to inform about the moving. People that she really didn't want to leave.<p>

"A lot of changes in your life right now" Rachel commented.

"Yes" Quinn agreed.

…

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard" Santana drawled. "Moving to the most boring city of all time, with the most boring man of all, to have the most boring time of your life."

"Santana…" Emma said warningly.

"I hear Dallas is a nice city" Kendra said.

"Who wants _nice_?" Santana scowled.

Quinn clamped her fists under the table. Inviting Santana had clearly been a mistake.

"You've never met Richard" she said harshly. "You don't know if he's boring or not."

Santana held up her palms in front of her in some kind peace action.

"Fine."

The table was greasy and Quinn's thighs stuck to vinyl booth and she felt more distant from the others than ever. Santana was moving to New York in the spring; she had already booked her ticket. Emma had gotten a new job and seeing a nice guy who she refused to introduce to anyone. Kendra was happy and in love and had just bought a house with her fiancée. They were free and happy and careless. And Quinn wasn't.

"Is Richard excited?" Emma asked politely.

"Yes. Very."

"And so are you, we can tell" Santana muttered.

"What do you think I should do then, Santana?" Quinn snapped. "Be a selfish bitch and refuse to move?"

"Yes!"

"Marriage doesn't work that way."  
>"What the fuck do you know about marriage, Quinn Fabray? You don't even want to marry this guy."<p>

They stared intently at each other as Emma and Kendra shifted awkwardly. Santana's eyes were dark and hard and intense. Quinn was the first to look away.

"Maybe not" she admitted, "but it's happening. Better make the best of it."  
>Santana actually snorted.<p>

"Are you listening to yourself? You're marrying some random guy because it's too late to back out. And I thought you were a Christian."

Rage flared up inside Quinn with double the intensity as before.

"I am!"

"Marriage is supposed to be about love, if you didn't know. It's not some fucking right to get married; it's a privileged. Everyone can't get married and you are wasting it away."

"What do you mean; _everyone can't get married_? Of course they can. People get married every day. It's not a big deal."  
>"God, you're so full of your own little world, aren't you? The only reason Kendra and Brian didn't get hitched on their second date is because they are waiting for it become legal for everyone."<p>

It took Quinn a few more seconds to fully understand. The boy in their gang, she didn't remember his name, he was gay and Kendra and Brian were waiting until he could get married too. And until Santana could too, even if they didn't know they were waiting for her sake.

"Touchy subject?" Quinn snapped.

Santana rolled her eyes. They wrapped up the dinner rather quickly after that.

…

"Drive me home" Santana ordered.

"Why should I?"  
>"Don't be petty, darling. Drive a girl home."<p>

"Fine."

Santana opened the passenger seat door and climbed in. Quinn kept her eyes on the road; counting to ten over and over inside her head.

"Don't be mad, sweetie" Santana drawled. "I'm the only one who will tell you the truth."

"I'd rather you were quiet."  
>"Lying to yourself doesn't work forever."<p>

"You never know."

Santana directed Quinn onto a small road where she had never been before. Small, rickety houses stood close together. Children and dogs and bikes littered the asphalt. A lot of the people looked up as Quinn's car made its way passed them.

"I'm sorry" she exhaled "I should have never tried to call you on being… You know."

"You can say gay, Quinn. Or a lesbian. Or whatever. It's not going to be make your head explode."

"Fine. I'm sorry for trying to call you on being gay."

"It's okay. I know you would never really expose me."  
>"Really? How so?"<p>

"Well, let's just say, I could call you on stuff too."  
>"Right."<p>

"And actually, because you're not a terrible person."

"Wow, easy on the compliments."

Santana snickered.

"You're being an asshole to your fiancée though."

"You don't understand…"

"And you're being an ass to Puck."

"No, I'm not."

"Trust me. He might tell you he doesn't care, but he does."  
>"Has he told you that?" Quinn scowled.<p>

"No, talking from my own experience."

That was a surprise. Santana didn't hesitate to shame Quinn for cheating and now she was saying she had done the same thing.

"I'm the mistress" she said, winking at Quinn.

"To who?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Why not? Do I know him?"  
>"Come on, Q, I'm gay."<p>

"Oh right, do I know _her_?"  
>"I don't know, but if it got out, she'd be in trouble. So I keep my mouth shut. The same way I did when she met this guy who her daddy liked and when they got married and when she had his baby. I never said anything."<p>

"Why not?"

"Because she's scared; even more scared than I am. She can't just tell people she's a lesbian. No. So she's married now, to a nice guy and has a beautiful baby and pretty house. And no one suspects that she fucks me in the backseat of her car."

Quinn flinched at the ugly term.

"Does she want to be with you?"

"I don't know; I've never asked her."

"Why not?"

"Because I love her. Because I could never ask her something that would bring her more pain. So I keep my mouth shut and stare at their wedding portrait in the newspaper and try not to care."

"Puck doesn't love me."

"How do you know?"

"It's not same, Santana. I'm sorry for you, I'm sorry this girl will never admit who she is. But it's not the same thing with me and Puck."

"We're in the exactly the same situation."  
>"No, we're not."<p>

Santana waved at some kids who were playing by the road.

"If this girl that I love, if she divorces her husband and moves in with me; her family will disown her. They will scream at us on the streets, maybe even throw eggs at my house, right?"

Quinn sighed.

"Yes, I guess so."  
>"What do you think your daddy would say if you dumped your precious fiancée for Puck?" Santana asked challengingly. "The biracial, poor worker with no college degree or secure future of you. Do you think he'd stand up and clap?"<p>

Quinn didn't answer. She wished Santana would get out of the car and leave her alone.

"No, Quinn, he wouldn't. He would throw you out and cut your family off from you. He'd never talk to you again."

"Maybe, but that's not…"

"Don't tell me that's not the point" Santana cut across her. "You told me once that this wasn't about race; but it is. If he was white and rich and well mannered; would you have kept him a secret?"

"I was with Richard when I met him."

"Yes, but not engaged. And you didn't love him. If Puck had been called Patrick or Peter, you could have married him instead."

Quinn swallowed hard. She had never thought about this way. Puck was who he was. And she was who she was. Wondering if life could have been different wouldn't change anything.

"Here's my house" Santana said.

She pointed at small, white house with a tiny porch and Quinn stopped the car outside it. The yard was empty; perhaps she lived alone. The thought was saddening.

"Maybe you should let go of that girl" Quinn said in some weird attempt at giving advice. "Find someone new."

Santana snickered.

"That's what I tell Puck every day. Apparently; it's not as easy as it sounds."

…

"That's great" Puck said.

She bit her lip and tried to figure out if he was being sarcastic or not.

"You really think so?"

"Yeah, like I said. Dallas is great city."  
>"But… But you said that you wanted me to stay."<p>

He shrugged.

"I was being selfish, you should go! It'll be great."

Quinn didn't understand him. She had prepared a speech. She had prepared herself for him being angry or sad or something, but not happy. Even in her wildest fantasy, she couldn't have imagined him being happy.

"Yes" she mumbled. "Great."

He nodded frantically.

"You always wanted to see the world; Dallas is one step on the way, right?"  
>"Right?"<p>

"Yeah, I guess."

"_Yeah"_ he said, grinning. "You used to never say that. Always _yes_. I ruined you."

She nodded absentmindedly and tried figure this out.

"So, when you leaving?"

Santana was wrong. He didn't love Quinn, like Santana loved that girl. Puck felt nothing. How could not care about her?

"April 30th" she mumbled.

"Great! Springtime in Dallas."

"Yeah… Yes, I mean."

"I have to go home" he said, shrugging. "Mom's making fried chicken."

"Great" she said, repeating the word.

"What are you doing tonight?"

"I'm spending the night at Richard's" she lied; wanting to see some emotion on his face.

There was none.

"Great. Hope you have a good one."

Quinn wasn't used to not understanding things. She was smart, she had gone to college and been valedictorian at her High School graduation. But this; this she just didn't understand.

…

She walked slowly inside. She felt strange; fragile and hurt and angry. And confused; maybe mostly that. The house was quiet. Boxes lined the living room; Quinn had already begun to pack her life into cardboard boxes. Laura was getting her room in a few years; she could leave nothing behind. Grace's eyes had become wet as they went through old clothes together. Quinn had stared at her old things; things from a past life that seemed to have nothing to do with the life she was planning with Richard.

"I thought you were out" someone said behind her, making her jump.

She turned to see a half-naked Carlton, with a sheet draped around his hips and two beers in his hands. The sight was so weird and repulsing that it took Quinn several seconds to come up with something to reply.

"I… I changed my mind."  
>"Right" he said, smiling goofily.<p>

The door to his and Frannie's bedroom was open and she could see figure in their bed. The room was dark but the woman was sitting up. Relief flooded through Quinn. She might hate Carlton to the core but Frannie loved him. Things between them seemed to be better. They had probably planned this night to be alone, and here she was, ruining the mood.

"I'll leave" she excused herself. "Sorry. Didn't mean to intrude."

Carlton shrugged.

"It's fine. You know, we just needed some quiet."

She nodded. She knew nothing about feelings and marriage but that made sense. It couldn't be easy living with parents and siblings around all the time.

"I get it."

She picked up her purse and opened the door to walk out again. She halted on the porch. Frannie's car was gone. Quinn's was there and so was Carlton's, but Frannie's wasn't. Confused, Quinn stepped back into the house.

"Where's your car, Fran?" she called.

This time she did not only see Carlton, almost naked and sweaty. This time; she saw a woman too. Small with brown hair and big eyes. Someone who wasn't Frannie. Carlton was kissing her against the living room wall as Quinn barged in again.

"I thought you were leaving" Carlton sneered, turning to face her.

"I was… I thought you were married to my sister."

"I am."  
>"Then who the fuck is this girl?"<p>

"Shh. Language, Quinn. Don't swear."  
>The girl giggled. She looked about Quinn's age, maybe even younger.<p>

"I've told you this a hundred times, sis" Carlton told her. "Don't meddle in other people's business."

Quinn stared at them some more. Taking the way the girl was her hand on Carlton's lower back, massaging his skin. The way Carlton wasn't mad or embarrassed or anything. The way that everything was falling apart.

"Your sister is at the club. Go and keep her company, sweetheart!"

Quinn left.

…

"You knew?" Quinn spat.

Frannie looked away.

"_You knew_?"

"You don't understand."

"Your husband is cheating on you. You knew and you willingly left the house so that they could be alone."

"You don't understand, Quinn."

"No, you're right. I don't. Please, make me understand."

Frannie's face was pale. She looked tired and frail. Jamie was asleep on her lap; Laura in her stroller. She had brought her babies to the club because her husband was having sex with someone else.

"I love him."

"Frannie, come on…"

"Let me finish" Frannie mumbled. "Please let me finish."

"Okay."

"I love him. I loved him enough to marry him. To have two of this children; the ones who are sleeping her with us. You don't have kids, Quinn, you don't understand the way you love you're your children. I love Carlton, but it can't compare to the way I love my kids."

"Good, then leave him. He won't care about them."

"When you have kids, you start putting yourself in second. Their happiness is more important than yours. They love their daddy and he does love them back; even if you doubt it."

"You can't stay with because they love him, Fran."

"Yes, yes I can. I'm not being stupid or irrational. The day when he does something to them, when it's better for them to be without him; I'll kick him out. I promise you I will. But I have that line and he hasn't crossed it. Right now, it's better for Jamie and Laura to have dad and have him cheat so that he'll stay. Right now, it is."

Quinn shook her head slowly.

"Maybe he'll leave you" she said bluntly.

"He won't. He depends on this job; he depends on daddy's help for everything. Without us, he'll be nothing."

"He'll stay with you for money and you'll stay with him for your children."

"Yes."

The sisters exchanged a long look that made Quinn want to cry.

"I hate him" she whispered.

"So do I, sometimes, but life is so much more than just love and hate, Quinn."

Quinn ordered them dinner and they ate in silence. People kept coming up them; congratulating Frannie on the new baby and wishing Quinn good luck with the wedding. They smiled and said thank you and then went back to the food.

"I wish you could stay in town" Frannie said.

"I know" Quinn said.


	10. i'll only let you down

The house turned quiet over the next few days. Finding Carlton with another woman had pushed Quinn off the ledge. Her whole reality had shifted so enormously over the past months that she no longer knew what to think. She went around the house; packing boxes and throwing things away and felt dazed with it all. Frannie was silent too. She kept to herself, fussing over Laura and playing with Jamie inside the nursery. Quinn tried to reach her, make her talk, but they had nothing else to talk about really. Quinn had made it clear what she thought about Carlton and Frannie had made her point about what she thought about Quinn moving to Dallas. There was nothing more to add.

"Pass the butter, Quinn" Carlton told her over dinner.

She raised her gaze and met his eyes. She hated him. She hated how he could look her in the eye still.

"You can reach it yourself."

"_Quinn_" her mother said, reprimanding her, like she was a little girl.

Frannie stared down into her plate, her fingers were shaking slightly.

"Don't worry, Judy" Carlton smiled. "I take no offense. Quinn can be a bit rough around the edges."

"She didn't used to be" Judy sighed, talking about her she wasn't there. "She used to be polite; something has changed."

Quinn thought about Puck's comment that she had begun to say _yeah_ instead of _yes._ How he had ruined her. Maybe he had point. Maybe the time she had spent with him; with Emma; with Santana, was finally showing effect.

"Richard will fix her for us" Russell said, calming his wife.

"How is he going to _fix_ me?" Quinn asked, feeling her face turn hot.

"Don't talk to your father like that" Judy snapped.

Quinn shook her head and went back to eating.

"Thank god she's beautiful" Judy mumbled.

Quinn got up and left; leaving half of her stew on her plate.

"Grow up" Carlton shouted after her.

Quinn slammed her door in response.

…

Puck's hug was warm and she felt herself relax a bit. Enraged by her family; she had called him, temporarily forgetting their last awkward conversation.

"What did they do this time?" he asked, sounding a bit amused.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, I guess" she sighed.

She guessed his mother was working again because his house was empty. She was relieved; not sure she would have been able to put up with someone else giving her cold stares right now.

"Tea?" he asked.

She nodded in response and as usual sat down on his couch. It felt even lumpier then before.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she asked, pulling a knitted blanket over her legs.

"You don't have to ask me that" he answered, sounding a bit annoyed. "We're friends, right?"

"Right" she mumbled.

He sat down by her feet but did not lift them onto his lap as he had once before. Instead she folded her legs to give more room.

"Tell me" he encouraged her.

"Carlton has a mistress. I caught them in the act, which gave me huge Santana and Puck flashbacks, by the way."

Puck grinned quickly before turning serious.

"Carlton's an ass."

"Yeah… Yes, I know."

"You sound unsure."  
>"No, I'm not. But… But on the way over here, I started thinking. Who am I to judge?"<p>

Puck tilted his head to one side. His chin was unshaven. She wanted to touch it; feel it was rough or soft against her fingers.

"We said we'd stop when you get married" he said defensively.

"I know, I know."

"You don't have kids, Quinn. You're not married. It's not the same."

She wanted to believe him, she really did.

"What if there's more to this story" she began. "What if they have been in love for ages and met again and just couldn't help it. Passion, or whatever."

"I don't get it" Puck said, shrugging. "Why are you trying to find a way to explain this? He cheated."

"So have I. So has the girl Santana loves."

"You're trying to free yourself, then?"

His tone was neutral but his face was hard and cold. She hated herself for talking at all, but who else could she talk to about this?

"I never made you do anything" he said.

"I know."

"You could have walked away, if you had wanted to."

"I know. I just didn't want to."

She reached over to touch his hand. He pulled it away; like he had burned himself. She turned her face away.

"I have something to tell you too" he said. "I've reenlisted. I'm going back to Vietnam."  
>She stared at the walls, not understand anything.<p>

"But… You got shot."

"Healed up fine."

"Why do you want to go back?"  
>"Sorry to break it to you, but working for your brother isn't the best thing in the world."<br>"You could look for other jobs…"

"I want to go, Quinn. Okay?"

She wanted to tell him no, no it was okay. But she had no right. She was leaving too after all and he had accepted that. She had no right to ask him to stay out of danger.

"When are you leaving?"

"The middle of May" he said.

There was time, was her first thought. May was still ages away. He could still change his mind.

"I think I should go home" she mumbled.

He didn't argue.

…

"Tell him to stay" she barked at Santana.

"You tell him."

"I can't."

"Well, neither can I."  
>Quinn wanted to punch something – or someone – and Santana was dangerously close.<p>

"This is absurd. He got _shot_. Shot."

"Yeah, I kinda grasped that" Santana said.

"How can you be some calm about this?"

"What is he supposed to do, Quinn? You're leaving him here. The only reason he kept the lousy job at your father's was because of you."  
>"That's not true. And even if it was, there are other jobs out there."<p>

"Heaps, for a semi-black Jew."

Quinn clamped her fingers around her plastic glass of coke a bit too hard and cracked it.

"Calm the fuck down" Santana muttered. "I don't have a lot of glasses."

"Sorry."  
>Santana's house was even smaller than Puck's. She lived alone, with a bathroom, a bedroom and a tiny kitchen. The walls were bare, no paintings covered the yellowing walls. She didn't even have curtains.<p>

"I thought you loved him" Quinn challenged her. "Don't you want him to be safe?"  
>Santana rolled her eyes.<p>

"Don't play the love card, sweetie."

"What if he dies?"  
>"Don't be melodramatic."<p>

Santana filled up Quinn's cracked up cup with vodka. The strong smell of alcohol made Quinn put her cup down.

"How do you think I felt the first time he went?" Santana asked, taking a swig from the vodka bottle.

"Horrible, I suppose."

"Yeah, pretty much. I was worried every single day and then he writes to me from some army base somewhere saying he's been shot…"

Quinn closed her eyes tight and took a gulp of coke and vodka from her cup. It burned in her throat.

"Tell him that, then."

"He wants to go, Quinn."

"No can _want_ to go to war. That's absurd."  
>"Maybe he feels like he hasn't got any other options."<p>

"But he does!"

"Then show him that."  
>Santana's voice was both tired and challenging. Quinn looked away.<p>

"I can't."

"You could; you just won't."

Quinn took another gulp of the liquid in her cup. It didn't burn as much this time.

…

Richard took her hand as they stepped out on the first field. It was the first really hot day of the season and his hand was sweaty. She let him hold her, it was just easier.

"I've never been out here" Richard told her father. "It's beautiful."  
>Russell shrugged.<p>

"It's money, as my father used to say."

The early morning sky was red and colored everything pink. It was beautiful, Richard was right, Quinn had never thought about it that way. He was wearing nice, brown leather shoes, the kind that would be destroyed after this walk in the mud and soil. She didn't say anything. He could afford a new pair.

"Here's the shed that burned down a few weeks ago" Russell said, pointing at the newly built house.

"It burned down?" Richard asked.

"Yes, didn't Quinn tell you?"

"No."

The both men stole looks at her but she kept her gaze at the ground, choosing carefully where to place her feet.

"The season has just started" Russell continued. "Not all of the workers are here yet. More will come in May."  
>Quinn raised her gaze and spotted a group of men a few yard away. They all looked up and took their hats off as Russell and the rest came closer. Puck was among them.<p>

"Men, this Miss Quinn's soon-to-be husband" her father announced. "The man who is whisking her off to Texas."

Some workers mumbled hello but most just nodded and then went back to work. Puck didn't. He kept staring at them, his mouth slightly open and his eyes contracted.

"Is there a problem, Puckerman?" Russell asked.

"No, Mr. Fabray."  
>"Back to work, then."<p>

Quinn passed within three inches of his chest. She could have reached out and touched him. Instead she squeezed Richard's hand harder.

"I need to get inside" she whispered. "I can feel my shoulders burning."

Richard hung his jacket over her shoulders in an attempt to shield her from the sun and ended up making her boiling hot instead.

"So, this is your home" he said, even though he been inside her house several times now.

"Yes."

"Are you sad to leave it?"

"Yes."

He waited for her to say something else; like that it was worth it for him, but she didn't.

…

Quinn stared at herself in the huge mirror. The dress was tighter now, fitted her better. No more needles or pins had to prick her skin. Frannie smiled serenely from the stool where she sat with Laura on her lap.

"You look beautiful" she said.

Quinn nodded and stared at her own pallid reflection. Her skin was white after the winter, her hair the lightest shade of gold and her eyes looked gray. But of course, she looked nice, pretty even, but not her best. Actually, she looked dead with the high collar and long sleeves. A corpse bride.

"Is it everything you ever dreamed of?" the seamstress gushed, smoothing the fabric carefully.

"No" Quinn said, smiling. "I've never pictured getting married."

"Nonsense" the lady giggled. "All girls dream of their wedding day."

"I never thought I was the marrying kind" Quinn said.

The words tugged at her heart. They were Puck's words. She had stolen them from him; because they true for her too.

"_Quinn…_" her mother said in a warning tone, as if she was being rude.

"Well, it worked out for you anyway, honey" the seamstress said, patting Quinn's hand.

"Right."

Quinn met her sister's eyes. She wore a sad smile. Quinn wondered if it was because of her own tragic marriage or the fact that even Frannie now must have realized Quinn's non-existent love for Richard.

"I bet the church will be full of people" the seamstress said.

"Yes" Judy said.

"No chance of squeezing in another person?"

"No."  
>Quinn bit her lip to hide a smile. Everyone wanted to go her wedding; not because they loved her or Richard, but because everyone else was going. Everyone wanted to go. Except Puck. He didn't want to see her get married; he had told her so. If he felt that way, how could he be happy that she was leaving?<p>

"It fits" Quinn said hastily. "Can we leave, please?"  
>Judy wrinkled her forehead and went around her daughter in a circle once more.<p>

"It looks good" she nodded. "Yes, we can leave."  
>Quinn stripped out of the heavy fabric quickly. She stared at herself, almost naked, in the mirror. She looked thin. Thinner. Gaunt, almost. Pretty, Frannie would call it.<p>

…

"Marriage is to be honorable and respected among all and the marriage bed undefiled, but sexual sinners and adulterers, God will judge. - Hebrews 13:4."

Quinn looked up at the reverend. Most of the time, she went to church for the peace the place offered and of course, because she always had. Usually, reverend Michaels spoke of building bridges and gates of fire and other spiritual things that she never could wrap her head around. This Sunday's topic was marriage, something else that she could understand. She remembered Santana's word about marriage being a privilege, how her face had turned red and angry as she had said it.

"Love is choice" the reverend went on. "A choice God made for us and that we keep making every day."  
>Maybe that was why she didn't love anyone. She had never decided on it. Perhaps she could decide to love Richard – and then she would. Or not. Reverend Michaels probably wasn't being literal.<p>

"The greatest act of love is to give yourself, fully and completely to another. For another. Like Jesus Christ did for us."

How did you give yourself fully to another without losing yourself? Frannie had, clearly, done it for Carlton and she was now a wreck, a shell of herself. Quinn wasn't ready to lose who she was for someone.

"Mothers and fathers would to anything for their children, love them, die for them, kill for them. The love of the creators is the most powerful; like the love God feels for us."

Quinn would never be good mom. She might cave for Richard and have his kids; but she would never be good at being a mom. She didn't understand how anyone could feel so powerfully for another. Maybe she was being selfish, maybe in fact, she was just a selfish person. Yes, that might be it.

"Love is God's greatest gift to us – and also our biggest responsibility. Take care of it, treasure it. Forever. Amen."

"Amen" she whispered.

They stood up and sang. Her voice cracked halfway through. Suddenly the air inside the church was stiflingly hot. It reminded her of New Year's eve in that closed up gym. She closed her eyes and turned quiet. Someone grabbed her hand on her left and held it tight. She felt Frannie's sharp wedding ring against her own. They scraped against each other all through the hymn.

"Are you okay?" Frannie whispered as they made their way out along the aisles, Quinn still had her eyes closed.

"Wedding jitters" Quinn whispered.

"You look like you're about to faint."

"It's hot in here."

"Not it's not."

"Yes, it is."  
>Frannie stopped and made Quinn do the same.<p>

"No, Quinn, really, it's not."

Finally Quinn opened her eyes. They were almost the only ones left inside now. The sounds of feet and people were dying out.

"Wedding jitters" she repeated.

Frannie said nothing.

…

Puck smiled down at them all. He looked strong and confident as he leaned into the microphone to sing. Santana laced one arm around his waist and pulled him closer. The town festival was in a town Quinn had never been to before. She had driven twenty miles into the woods and ended up here.

"This might be our last performance together in a long time" Santana said. "Puck's going to back to 'Nam."

Someone booed.

"Couldn't agree more" Santana shouted at him, doing the thumbs up. "Anyway; this is _It Ain't Me, babe_. And this is for our darling friend, Quinn, who drove out here just here us sing. Right, Puck?"

Quinn felt her cheeks flush even though no one in the crowd knew that she was the one Santana was talking to.

"Yes" Puck said. "This is for her."

He gave Santana a look that Quinn didn't understand before strumming his guitar. She watched them without really listening. How he smiled and how she twirled and how people went crazy. She saw how Santana pulled him closer, like she was scared of him leaving her. And Quinn realized that how upset she herself was over Puck going away, Santana had it worse. It was written all over her pretty face.

"Thank you" she said to people. "Have a good day!"

…

"How can do it to her?" she asked Puck bluntly. "How can you do it her, twice?"

The wine bottle on the table was empty. Santana had gone to the bathroom and they were alone for the first time that evening.

"Do what?" he asked.

"Go to war. Leave her here, alone and worried and scared for you. How can you do that to her?"  
>"Santana will be fine."<br>"Only if you are."

Puck picked up the bottle and spun it in his hands.

"I'll be fine too."

"You don't know that."

He dropped the green flask onto the pavement and it smashed into a thousand small pieces. Both of them watched the mess without raising a finger

"You're being selfish" she said boldly.

"It's my life."

Santana came out again. She stared the mess of wine and glass on the asphalt. She looked messy and frail and beautiful as she leaned her head upon Puck's chest.

"I don't think we can drive home in this state" Quinn said.

Santana smiled naughtily before closing her eyes.

"I thought you said you'd never drink again" Puck said.

"I did" Quinn replied.

"Breaking the rules, huh?"

"Always."  
>He was drunk too. She could ask him what he really thought of her leaving now, about moving to Dallas. Maybe she'd get a different answer this time. But she didn't ask. She didn't want to ruin the calm mood.<p>

"She's asleep" he said, tilting his head down to kiss the top of Santana's head, something he would never have done if she was awake.

"Carry her to the car."

Quinn dug up some bills and left them on the table for waiter to pick up together with the smashed bottle. Puck picked Santana up like she was a baby and walked unsteadily towards the parking lot. The night was full of sounds and people who were celebrating their festival or fair or whatever it was.

"Open the door" Puck said. "The keys are in my back pocket."

Quinn gave him a look.

"Yes, in the pocket on my ass. Just grab it, okay?"

She grinned and stuck her hand down and fished out the car keys. Normally she might have blushed, thanks to the wine, all she did was giggle. They stuffed Santana into the back seat of Puck's car. She didn't wake up even when Quinn almost closed the door with her feet outside.

"What now?" he asked.

She started walking without a word and he followed. They walked across a small square where people were cheering and laughing and drinking. They walked passed a fountain, lit up by light bulbs under the water. She sat down on it and cooled her hands in the water. Pennies glimmered from the bottom.

"Kiss me" she ordered him.

He sat down next to her and kissed her.

"What now?" he asked.

"Kiss me again."  
>He did. His lips met her and she grabbed the back of his head to pull him closer. He left her mouth and kissed her neck instead. She stared over his head, across this small town, and swallowed down something that could have been tears.<p>

"What if you die?" she asked.

He kissed her mouth instead of answering. She let him get away with it. The question lingered in her head. _What if he dies?_

_…_

"I heard this sermon the other day" she told him.

"About that?"

"Love."

"What a surprise."

"Don't be like that" she told him and nudged his side with her elbow.

"Fine. What did the little man in the dress tell you?"

"I don't really remember."

"Wow, good story."

"Shut up" she smiled.

The fountain was made of stone and made her cold. She didn't move, thought, she didn't dare to move. They were alone here, no one bothered them. She wanted to be with him more than ever. Maybe it was the wine.

"He said something about love being a choice."

"That's crap."  
>"You think?"<p>

"Yeah, I do. People don't choose to love anything."

"But maybe you can choose _not_ to love?"

"No, I don't think so."  
>His hand lay on his thigh. She wanted to take it and hold it and let it warm own. She didn't. Not yet.<p>

"Maybe I don't love Richard because I have made up my mind that I don't."

Puck sighed deeply.

"Believe that if you want."

"I don't know what to believe" she confessed.

"Look; I know Santana told you about the girl she loves. The one who is married and has kids and lives her perfect little life. Do you think Santana _wants _to love her?"

"No."

"Don't you think that if she could choose not to love her; she would?"

"Yes."

He looked agitated now, moving the hand that she wanted to hold. She hadn't wanted to make him angry. She just needed him to help her with own thoughts.

"You know, Quinn, for someone who claims to love no one, you are obsessed it. Love, that is."

"Maybe it's because I don't understand it."

He nodded.

"Perhaps."  
>It looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn't. She didn't either. And she didn't reach for his hand.<p>

_…_

"Do you think your mother still loves your father?" she asked.

The night had turned into early morning and she was sobering up. Or maybe she wasn't. The ground they sat on was cold. She wore his jacket over her bare arms.

"I don't know. I don't know if you can love someone who lets you down that way."  
>"You love him, though. You told me that once."<br>Puck looked tired. And cold. She took the jacket off and draped it over both of their legs. He didn't argue.

"He's my dad" he said simply.

"Have you ever thought of calling him?"  
>"I don't know where he is."<br>"You could track him down."

"I don't want to."

"Okay."

"He left me, Quinn. He left me because it was too difficult to stay. I'll never forgive him for that."  
>"Okay."<p>

He nodded.

"You're leaving too now" she said.

"Yes, but I'm not leaving anyone. Not a wife or a kid."

"You're leaving your mom."  
>"You're not supposed to live with your mother your whole life."<p>

"You're leaving Santana."  
>"She's gonna leave soon too."<p>

"And you're leaving me."  
>She didn't dare to look at him. Instead she inspected her fingernails. They were bitten down as low as her teeth could reach.<p>

"You're the one who's getting married."  
>"I know."<p>

"And moving to fucking Dallas."  
>"You said Dallas was a great city."<p>

He didn't reply.

"You're leaving because it's easier too" she tried again.

"So are you."

"Yes, so am I."  
>The jacket didn't keep her warm. She rubbed her arms and hoped the sun would rise soon.<p>

"Maybe he wasn't that much of an asshole, your dad" she said. "Maybe he was just out of options."

Puck got up. Quinn jumped, suprised by the suddenness of his movements.

"He had options. I have options. You have options."

"Why won't you stay then?"  
>"Why won't you?" he challenged her.<p>

"I made a choice" she whispered.

"Yes. And so did I and so did my dad. He made the wrong one."

"Am I?"  
>He shrugged and walked a few paces away from her.<p>

"Am I making the wrong choice?" she asked again, the urgency in her voice surprised even her.

"Let's go back to the car."

He walked away and she had to hurry to catch up.

"I have my own car" she said.

"Oh, right."

She handed him his car keys, letting her hand linger on his.

"Don't be mad at me" she begged. "I can't stand it."

"I'm not mad at you."

"Yes, you are."

"Maybe I am. People can't always love you, Quinn."

"I know."

He shook his head.

"I'll call you later, okay? When we're sober and I'm not freezing like hell."

She watched him walk away.

…

Grace looked her up and down. A small smile flickered over her lips.

"Been sleep walking again, Miss Quinn?"  
>Quinn was too sleepy to answer. She patted the maid's arm halfheartedly and passed her in the hallway.<p>

"Richard called."

"I'll call him back later."

"Your mother spoke to him. He's going to look at the house in Dallas today. Your mother said you'd come with him."  
>Quinn let out of grown of annoyance.<p>

"Why did she do that?"

"I don't think she had any reason to say no."

Quinn moaned and clutched her head. The hung over was sneaking up on her.

"It's a six hour drive."

"He's picking you up in an hour."  
>"Why did she say yes? How could she do that?" she whined.<p>

Grace clucked her tongue disapprovingly.

"I think your mother did you a favor, Miss Quinn."  
>"Really?"<p>

"She could have said that you weren't home at 9 PM on a Sunday night, but she didn't."

Quinn looked away. She wanted to curl up in her bed with a book and strong coffee and not move for hours.

"In an hour then" she said tonelessly.

"Yes, miss."

She nodded and headed for the shower, praying it would magically fix her throbbing head.

….

Richard's car was nice, nicer than hers and a whole lot nicer than Puck's. She folded her legs under herself, leaned her head against the cold window and closed her eyes.

"Are you feeling ill?" he asked.

"No, just tired.

"Wedding jitters?"  
>"Right."<br>"I saw a picture of the house the other day. The former CEO used to live there but he's retired now; moved to Georgetown."

"Did it look nice?"

"The house? Yeah, it looks great. Right in the center of town, big, almost as big as your parents' house."

Her parents' house. Not her house anymore.

"That sounds great" she said, trying to add feeling to her words.

"It has a backyard too; I've seen it in pictures. A garden with trees and grass and deck for barbecues."

She opened her eyes and stole a glance at his face. He looked excited, like he couldn't sit still. Like he couldn't wait for when he lived in that new house in the new town with his new wife. Quinn was convinced that he didn't love her any more than she loved him; but he was trying. She wasn't even making an effort.

"I'm so happy for you" she said. "For getting that job."

He met her eyes and grinned widely.

"Thank you."

"And... And I think this is going to be good for us. Dallas, you know. Making new roots."

He nodded vigorously.

"I know, I mean, I think so too."  
>She smiled tiredly and closed her eyes again. He was driving too fast on the small road but it didn't bother her. Anything to make the journey shorter.<p>

"You sleep for a bit" he offered generously. "I'll listen to the radio."

She nodded.

…

The house was furnished with beds and tables and cutlery that the company owned. The grass was mowed, the floor scrubbed and a peach pie was in the fridge. A note on the counter read "I hope you will enjoy this house as much as we did" and was signed the former CEOs wife. Richard walked round and round the house. He sat in the couch, pressed play on the TV and went to the bathroom. Quinn made coffee.

It was easier this way, of course. It wasn't like they had time to buy their own furniture or decorate the kitchen or anything. And anyway; they couldn't. This was the company's house, not theirs. Quinn knew all this, but she couldn't help the feeling that she was moving into someone else's house, someone who might come back any day. Like she was a guest.

"It's nice, right?" Richard asked for the sixth time.

"Yes" she said.

It _was _nice. It lacked the charm of her old home, but it was fresh and new and open. The carpet that covered the entire floor was soft under her feet and the windows opened up the one of bigger streets. And it was a good sized house. Space for kids and dogs and a lot of things.

"I think we'll be happy here" he said, taking her hand.

"I think so to" she said because thinking and hoping was almost the same thing.

She served him coffee in someone else's mugs. The same mugs that another man and another woman had been drinking coffee out of. And maybe another couple before them.

"I love you" he said.

It was the first time he told her that in this house.

"I love you too" she said.

It was the first real lie she told him in this house.

…

"Good night" Richard mumbled as he kissed her good-bye.

It was late, very late. They hadn't stayed long at the house but the six hour drive swallowed a big part of any day. She had slept the entire trip home and felt mushed and tangled.

"Good night."

She got out of the car and shut the door behind her. By the lights of Richard's car; she saw a figure linger at the gate. At first she felt scared, was it robber or rapist or murderer? She half-heartedly raised her hand to make Richard stay but he was already driving away.

"Where have you been all day?" Puck asked.

She could tell that he was annoyed. She straightened herself.

"In Dallas" she said, stepping closer to him.

"I've been waiting for hours."

"I didn't ask you to" she snapped.

He raised his eyebrows. God, she was tired.

"Sorry" she sighed. "I'm just sleepy. Can we talk in the morning?"  
>Puck shook his head.<p>

"No, I have to work tomorrow."

"After work, then."

"No, look, I have to talk to you now."

"Fine."

Quinn dropped her purse onto the gravel road and looked up at Puck expectantly. Every limb in her body ached. Her head throbbed.

"This was a stupid idea from the beginning" he said.

"What was?"  
>"You and me. This. This little thing."<p>

She frowned.

"Yes, it's stupid. I think we settled that about six months ago."

He didn't look at her, she realized. He was looking over head. At trees or the fields or the winding road. Anywhere but at her face.

"I'm ending this now. Before it's too late."

"_Excuse me?"_

"Do you know what could happen to me if people found out? They would kill me. You know that, right?"  
>"No one is finding out."<p>

"They'd disown you. Throw you out on the street."

"Puck, what is this really about?"

He shrugged.

"I'm not doing it anymore. I'm leaving soon, like you pointed out last night. I'm leaving and you're leaving and it's a fucking stupid risk to take."  
>"You <em>always<em> knew the risk. I never forced you to be with me."  
>Her brain was too tired to understand what he was saying. Why he wasn't looking at her. Why he stepped away from her as she moved in closer.<p>

"Good luck with everything."  
>"You're kidding me, right?"<p>

"No. I'm not."  
>"I can't take you seriously if you keep staring at the forest. Look at me."<br>He shook his head.

"Puck, _look at me_."  
>He finally lowered his gaze to meet her eyes. His face was blank. It scared her.<p>

"What has happened?" she whispered.

"Nothing. I just, I just realized that this is stupid."

She heard the lie behind the words. She wanted to claw her way in and find the truth.

"Why are you making a big deal about this?" he asked. "It was going to happen sooner or later."  
>"Not like this" she argued, finally feeling the anger rise inside her.<p>

"Like what then, Quinn? Were we supposed to kiss one more time in the rain and I would give you a necklace as a token? Is that it, princess?"  
>He wasn't look at her anymore and she was staring at her shoes. Tears burned in her throat, messing up the words she wanted to say.<p>

"If this is really what you want…"

"It is" he said.

She looked after him as he walked away from her. She wanted to scream and shout and cry. Instead she went to bed and slept for fourteen hours.


	11. someone to close his heart

"She's paying" Santana said, pointing at Quinn.

The waitress handed Quinn the bill.

"Thanks" she mumbled, digging in her purse for a twenty. "Keep the change."

The waitress cleared their table and then left. Santana lazily picked up a tooth pick.

"Sometimes I think we're just friends so that you can eat for free" Quinn sighed.

"Who said that we were friends?"

"Touché."

"I hang out with you for fries and you hang out with me, hoping that I will tell you something about Puck."  
>Quinn rolled her eyes.<p>

"That's not true. I haven't asked about him once."

Santana shrugged.

"What do you wanna know?"  
>"Nothing."<br>"Fine. Drive me home, then."  
>Quinn bit her lip. It had been two weeks since she had spoken to him. She had watched him early in the morning, going to work, and in the afternoon as he went home. She had driven past his house as few times too, but she hadn't spoken to him.<p>

"He's fine" Santana sighed finally, probably not being able to stand the silence. "The same he was two weeks ago."  
>"I wasn't asking."<p>

"Good; I'll pass that on."  
>"Don't."<p>

The diner was almost empty, the lunch rush was over. Emma had gotten more shifts at store where she worked and couldn't join them anymore for their weekly meal anymore. Quinn had been ready to call it off entirely but Santana showed up at the gate as usual.

"We're going to the bar tonight. You can come if you like."

"No, thank you."  
>"Third time this week that we're going. I think he wants to make his liver suffer real badly before he has to be sober for nine months."<p>

"Well, have fun."  
>Santana sighed again, deeper this time.<p>

"You're acting like you're twelve. Come to the bar with us tonight. Emma's coming too."

"I can't."  
>"Whatever."<p>

Quinn played absentmindedly with the small packs of pepper and salt. She built a tower as high as her glass before Santana knocked it over. Salt spilled out over the table from the tear in the paper than Santana's sharp nail had created.

"And you're in a good mood too, I presume" Quinn snapped, as if the pyramid had mattered to her.

"I can't wait to get out of this fucking shithole of a town" Santana muttered in response.

A couple in the booth behind them turned to give Santana an evil look. She didn't even notice them. Quinn tried to smile to smooth it over but they ignored her.

"Right" she said quietly. "I get that. You don't have to scream it."

"I don't fucking care anymore."  
>The man next to them got up and opened his mouth to say something; probably to tell Santana to be quiet.<p>

"Sit the fuck down" she spat at him before he could say anything.

"_Santana_" Quinn tried.

"You little lady…" the man began.

"Shut up."

"Don't tell me to…"

"Shut. Up."

Quinn tried to drag her away from the table but Santana was stronger and more importantly, angrier.

"I'm not some fucking _little lady _here to please you" she hissed. "Don't you think I saw how you were staring at my tits not five minutes ago?"  
>The man's wife clamped a hand in front of her mouth.<p>

"I think you'd better go" the same waitress who had served them said.

"I think you're right" Quinn sighed. "Santana, _come on_."

"Fuck you" Santana screamed at everything or no one.

…

"That's a perfectly normal reaction to have for being tired of this town" Quinn commented as she backed out of the parking lot.

"Fuck you."

"Oh, really. Me too?"  
>"Leave me alone."<p>

"I will, I'll just drop you off at home first."

The radio played that one Bob Dylan song again; the one about things changing. The one that had driven Quinn to go to Puck's house and find him naked with Santana. The memory almost made Quinn smile now. Almost.

"Can you turn the music down?" Santana growled.

"I thought you liked it."  
>"Not today."<p>

Quinn lowered the volume to a minimum and decided to keep quiet the rest of the journey. It was probably the only way she would avoid being slapped.

"She's pregnant again" Santana said suddenly, demonstratively looking out of the window.

She looked younger in that moment, not like the sex symbol who sang in front of crowds, not the angry woman who screamed at pervs in diners. She looked like a girl in her early twenties in too short shorts and a broken heart in her chest. Quinn wanted to pull over the car and hug her until she looked like her normal self again, but she knew that Santana would shake her off and turn hard and probably never let her in again. So instead Quinn kept her eyes on the road and her hands on the steering wheel.

"The girl you love?"

"Yes."  
>"She told you?"<br>"Yeah, last night. We went out in her car and she bought us milkshakes and then she just said it. _I'm having another baby, San_. And she smiled as if I was supposed to be happy for her."

"She sounds like a total bitch."

"No" Santana said quickly. "No, she's not. She's just… I don't know. She didn't mean to hurt me and that makes it even worse. She honestly thought I would be pleased about her and her husband having another fucking kid."

"What did you say?"  
>"Not much, drank my freaking milkshake and listen to her babble about baby names for forty minutes."<p>

"I'm sorry."

Santana let out a sound that was something between a sigh and a moan.

"I need to fucking leave this place. I can't stand it. I just can't."  
>"I know."<p>

"No, you don't. I'm tired of living this fucking lie. I'm tired of not getting what I want. I'm fucking tired of everything."

"I'm sorry" Quinn said again, not knowing what else to say.

"I haven't even told you the worst part."

"You haven't?"

"No."

Santana didn't look like she wanted to talk about the _worst part_. She stared at the fields and houses and cars they passed. Her hands were clamped into fists.

"She told me… She told me that she loves him. Her husband. She didn't marry him for love; her father wanted them together so she said yes. But yesterday… Yesterday she told me that she loves _him_."

Santana's voice broke on the last word. Quinn hated herself for not knowing how to comfort her.

"She can still love you" she tried.

"It doesn't matter. She's never going to leave someone she loves."

"I'm sorry, Santana."

Finally Santana turned her head to look at her.

"Can you step on it? I really want to get home."

"Sure."

…

Laura was getting bigger. Quinn kissed the top of the little girl's head and breathed in the smell of baby. Frannie watched her quietly. Jamie was running around them on his short legs, knocking things down and yelling. They let him be, there were worse things in the world than a bit of ruckus.

"I feel…" Frannie began slowly. "I feel like there's something that you're hiding from me."

Quinn looked up.

"What do you mean?"  
>"I don't know" Frannie said vaguely.<p>

Quinn wished that she would drop it. She herself had dropped trying to make her sister talk about Carlton. She had stopped sending her looks if he did something mean or said anything inappropriate. If she could see past Frannie staying with her asshole of husband, her sister should be able to ignore some _feeling_.

"You know, Quinn, you don't have to marry him."  
>Quinn smiled with relief. Richard was a safe topic in comparison to other subjects.<p>

"I know, Fran."

"This isn't the _Pride and Prejudice _era. Daddy isn't trying to marry you off."

Quinn tilted her head to one side, surprised that Frannie had actually read the Jane Austen novel. Or maybe she had just heard about. Quinn had a faint memory of her twelve year old self blabbing about it for two months straight.

"I know."

"Then why are you going through with this?"

Frannie's face was strained with confusion. She lashed out an arm and caught her son as he did it fiftieth lap around the couch. She pressed him against her chest like he was a talisman.

"What's the alternative? Die alone with a cat?" Quinn smiled as if it all was a joke.

"The old you would rather had died alone than married someone you didn't even like."

"Have I changed then?"  
>"I don't know, have you?"<p>

"No. I'm still Judy Fabray's daughter. The one who always curtsies and smiles and never complains. We were raised that way. You were always better at it, though."

"Grace used to say that mother has two daughters, one who is blessed with beauty and one blessed with grace" Frannie whispered.

"She told me that too."  
>Jamie fought himself free from his mother's grip. He was starting to look more and more like Carlton with his short forehead and poignant jaw. Quinn wondered if it hurt Frannie to look at him.<p>

"You could fall in love with someone else" Frannie continued.

"No, I couldn't."

"Have you ever been in love, Quinn? Someone in college or… after?"

"No."  
>Her sister sighed heavily.<p>

"I wouldn't tell…"

Quinn studied her sister's face. If she was going to tell anyone… No. There was nothing to tell. It was all over now anyway. No one knew and therefore no damage was done.

"There's no one."

Frannie nodded.

"Okay."  
>Quinn stood up with Laura on her arm. The baby had fallen asleep and Quinn decided to put her in her crib.<p>

"I forgot" Frannie said just as Quinn was leaving the room. "Brittany called earlier when you were out at lunch. She's having another baby, she just found out."

…

Quinn was perched on her window sill again. She had a book in her lap, one of the few that weren't already packed in boxes. She heard voices and peered out. He walked with two other men his age. They laughed about something together. He was wearing a white t-shirt that almost shone in the moonlight. She remembered seeing him for the first time, just like this. Almost a year ago now. She thought of all that had happened since then. How she had met Emma through him, which for what she could only be grateful. Santana too, she supposed, even if she wasn't sure if what they had was a friendship. She remembered Frannie's last words about Brittany having a baby. More than one lady in this town became pregnant at once, of course.

"Do you want me to braid your hair?" Grace asked softly from the door.

Quinn nodded.

…

It was Quinn's wedding shower but it was Brittany who got most of the attention. She was just alight with glee about this new baby. She smiled and laughed and giggled and people hugged her and wished her good luck. Actually, people probably did that because they felt that they couldn't do that with Quinn. She wasn't radiating happiness. She thanked everyone for their gifts and poured champagne and showed her ring (though everyone had already seen at the engagement party), but it wasn't enough.

It was fine. Really. Quinn didn't need all the attention. Instead she spent the afternoon watching her friends. Rachel was apparently fighting with Finn about buying a dog. June and Olivia's mother had broken her leg and they were both hiding very badly how tiresome it was to assist her. Mostly, Quinn watched Brittany. She couldn't get rid of the feeling that had struck her a few days before. The one about Brittany being the source of Santana's heartache. She wished she could ask someone; someone who would tell her the truth. But then again, what right had she to ask? If someone would have asked her about Puck, she would have lied with hesitation. How could she expect anything else from Brittany?

…

"I used to think all of you were blissfully naïve and happy" Quinn said as she and Frannie helped Grace clean up the mess.

"_All of you_?" Frannie asked with raised eyebrows.

"The married girls, with families and husbands."

"Right. And what do you think of _us_ now?"  
>"I don't know."<br>"Don't let my failed marriage scare you off from the possibility of love" Frannie said dryly.

Grace looked up sharply from the table she was clearing.

"Oh, like you didn't know, Grace" Frannie snapped, rather harshly. "You know everything that goes on in this house."  
>The maid went back to stacking plates without a comment but a small smile spread on her face. "What else do you know, Grace?" Quinn asked carefully, covering her anxiety with a layer of humor.<p>

"Nothing, Miss Quinn" Grace said.

"Come on" Frannie urged her. "Let one tiny secret slip."

"Well" Grace said slowly, straightening her back. "Quinn sometimes sleepwalks."

Her eyes glittered from this game Frannie was making her play. However, as they met Quinn's they almost turned stern. She knew. No, she didn't know. Maybe she suspected something.

"That's not exciting" Frannie sighed and went back to cleaning.

Grace also went back to the plates and glasses on the dinner table. Quinn did not. She stood still and tried to breathe evenly.

"Grace" she said slowly. "You know everything about us and we know almost nothing about you."

"I'm the help, Miss Quinn, not your mama."  
>She sounded casual and nonchalant. Quinn closed her eyes to calm herself. Grace would never tell on her. Never. And even if she did, no one that mattered would believe her.<p>

…

"Hey" he said, making her jump.

She knew who it was before she saw him step out of the shadows. She only needed three letters to recognize his voice.

"Hello" she said.

He lit a cigarette in the dark.

"Richard picking you up?" he asked with a dry smile.

"Yes."

He nodded and blew smoke at her face. She closed her eyes.

"You want a cigarette?" he asked.

"No. You know that I don't smoke."

"Right."

It was the first time she had seen in properly in weeks. He looked the same. A bit tanner, a bit more tired. His hair had grown about an inch. Maybe he wasn't bothered about cutting it off; in a few months someone would shave it all off with a trimmer for the army.

"Why did you lie?" she asked, suddenly rushed to ask him many things before Richard came or Puck's cigarette burned out or before he went to Vietnam.

"I never lie" he said.

"You did once. You're not scared of getting caught, not really. That's not why you ended things."

"Really? Thank you for that insight, miss Fabray."

His voice was sarcastic and hard and she hated it. She wanted to shake him hard until he let go of this façade. She wanted him to smile and tease her and make her feel happy.

"Why does it matter?" he sighed, dropping the stump of the cigarette and stomping it out on the dusty path.

"Why did you lie?" she pressed on.

"You lie all the time" he shot back.

She bit her lip so hard it almost drew blood. Frustration boiled inside her. Frustration and something else, maybe desperation.

"We're different, you and I" she said, without being really sure where she was going with it.

"Clearly."

The cigarette was gone and he was still there, outside the gate. Was he waiting for someone too? "Is Santana in love with my friend Brittany?" she asked boldly, watching his face intently.

"I don't know your friends" he said.

She dropped it. He would never be disloyal to Santana; would never sell her out.

"I might be a liar but you're not" she tried again.

He sighed.

"Drop it, 'kay? In a few weeks you'll be married and I'll be walking through ditches in Asia."

Richard's car appeared in the distance. Puck drew in air quickly as if he was about to say something else.

"What?" she urged him.

"Nothing" he said.

And with that he took one step back into the shadows of the great hedge and disappeared from view.

…

A few days later Richard loaded her boxes into his car. He was driving to Dallas again to speak with his new boss and the board.

"You sure you don't wanna come?" he asked for the fifth time. "You can walk around in the town; get to know the place."  
>She shook her head.<p>

"I'll have plenty of time for that."

He nodded and a wave of thankfulness flooded her. He wasn't a persistent man, her fiancé.

He had wanted to have sex with her months ago but she had said no and he had accepted. He wasn't impossible. He was just old school when it came to her working or them moving for his work. She again came to the conclusion that all he did was to benefit them. His motives were pure; hers wasn't.

"Only six weeks until we get married" he said, squeezing her hand.

She squeezed back. She could almost feel the longing in his fingers. What he longed for, she couldn't tell. Maybe it was really the wedding; marrying her. Or it was moving to Dallas. Or the new job. Or the prospect of that at 31 finally marrying _someone _and proving that he was normal.

"Six weeks" she echoed.

He leaned in to kiss her. She met his lips and tried, really _tried_, this time to feel something. She didn't. If it hadn't come in a year, feelings probably wouldn't just show up some random day. Or would they? Brittany, no, the girl Santana loved had evidently fallen in love with her husband.

"Safe trip" she told him as a good wife should. "Drive safe."

"I will" he grinned.

She watched him drive off, her heart brimming with what she would like to feel. She wanted, maybe for the _first _time to feel something. To miss him or wish that he hadn't left her. Anything. Something. Suddenly the idea of loveless marriage was terrifying, like a prison. She turned quickly, feeling agitated and restless. Her car keys were in her pocket and she drove without even really making the decision.

…

Elisabeth Puckerman stared up at Quinn's face. She looked smaller without the scrubs she wore at the hospital. Her face was oval and her eyes big and grey. She hadn't left much of her own face in her son's. No one could ever blame Quinn for not connecting the two.

"Hello" Quinn said.

"Hello" Puck's mother responded.

Her voice was cold, Quinn instinctively took a step back. This was a bad idea.

"Who's at the door?" she heard Puck asked.

He stepped into her view, towering over his mother. He put a hand on her shoulder when he spotted Quinn.

"Hi you" he said off-handedly.

"Hello" she said again.

She had much a plan now as she had the time she drove here to find Santana and Puck naked. It was just a feeling. If he asked her what she was doing here; she would have nothing to say. He didn't ask her, though, just stepped past his mother to stand beside Quinn.

"My car still has those unsafe breaks" he smirked.

"Mine is fine" she whispered.

He nodded and walked passed her to the passenger door. Quinn followed mutely. She hadn't expected him to go with her without a fight.

"I'm going to bed now" his mother called for the door way. "And I'm not working tonight."

"Okay, mama" Puck said, waving at her.

They got into the car. Quinn was still hesitant but Puck leaned forward to put the radio on with a smile on his face. He looked relaxed, even calm. Like he had known that she would come. But how could he have known? She hadn't even known herself.

"I'm sorry for barging in" she mumbled.

"It's the probably the rudest you've even been. Your mama wouldn't be proud" he smiled.

"Why are you being nice again?" she asked.

He feigned hurt.

"Do you mean I've been mean?"

"You know what I mean."

He shrugged.

"Don't ask me and I won't tell you lies."  
>"More lies, you mean" she remarked.<p>

He grinned and she couldn't help but smile too. She didn't understand it but she didn't question it. There was no time for that. They had to prioritize now. Fighting could wait for never. For now; she was just glad he was himself again.

"We can still be friends" she said half-heartedly.

"Sure" he smiled.

She shook his head at his sudden happiness.

…

The trees created shade for their bodies as they lay on the grass. Close enough for their arms to touch, but nothing else. They were still keeping their distance. For now at least.

"I have to admit it, Miss Fabray" he said. "I've missed you."

"Shut up" she smiled.

He rolled over to his side and smiled at her. She looked away.

"I hope I don't get grass stains on my dress" she muttered.

He laughed.

"I'm sorry, you're not Miss Fabray, are you? You're Princess Quinn."

"Shut up" she repeated without any real force.

"A princess would never say that" he remarked.

"I'm not a princess."

"I think you are."

He raised his chest to kiss her. His lips were hot and soft and made her _feel _things. She let her fingers grab onto the little hair he had on his head and pull him closer.

"I missed you too" she told him before she could stop herself.

"I can tell" he drawled.

She shoved him off her with a laugh. They both stared up at the leaves overhead. She took his hand and laced her fingers between his. He didn't pull his hand back.

"Are you scared?" she asked.

"About what?" he asked back.

"I don't know. Getting caught; going to war…"

"Not right now" he breathed.

She thought of the first times they had met. How he had been cocky and she stuck up and now they lay here. Their chests rose and fell at the same interval. His lips had traces of her lipstick on them.

"Are you scared?" he asked.

"About what?"

"I don't know. Getting caught, getting married…?"

"Not right now" she exhaled.

He closed his eyes. She gazed at his face as he fell asleep in the grass. Then she moved in closer, placing her head on his chest.

"Your head is fucking heavy" he muttered.

"Shut up."

He grinned as they both fell asleep.

…

She woke him after about an hour. The sun was beginning to set, creating a beautiful pink sky above their heads. It was getting cooler too, she rubbed her arms to create warmth.

"It's late" she whispered, hoping that he wouldn't care.

"It's not."

There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask him. Her head was mushy and swirly and she had idea what was going on.

"It feels like this year has been a chapter in a book" she said quietly. "Like I've read it, not lived it."

She moved her head from his chest to the grass. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep but except that, she felt alive and awake. It was the best sleep she had had in weeks. Dreamless and deep.

"How come?" he asked, rolling over on his side to watch her.

His lingering eyes on his face distracted her. She had never been one of those who didn't want to have their pictures taken or was embarrassed when people turned in the streets to look after her. She knew that she was beautiful; it was neither her work or her fault. However, when his eyes took in her wrinkled, sleepy face, it almost made her blush.

"Nothing has ever happened before; nothing that would make like a novel. My life was exactly the same as every other girl in every other town in this country. And now; it's not."

"Well, good" he said with too much humor in his voice. "I made your life exciting."

She wanted to punch herself. How could everything she say sound to tactless.

"No" she began. "No."

"I get it" he interrupted. "I'm only messing with you, 'kay? I get what you mean."

She faced him so that she could take in his face, like he took in hers. He was handsome, she realized. Not in the Richard way, but in a rugged way.

"You made everything changed" she mumbled. "You made everything special."

"You sound like someone out of a book now" he smiled . "Like a character in one of those paperbacks that you carry with you."

"I can't help it. "

He carefully rubbed the mascara off her cheeks with his thumb.

"Sometimes I look at you and I hate you for being so beautiful" he whispered through almost closed lips.

"I'm sorry" she whispered back.

And she kind of meant it because she could try to change her personality, but she couldn't help the way she looked.

"Don't be."

"Can I write to you when you go to Vietnam?" she asked, because she had start somewhere with the heap of questions in her mind.

"Can we not talk about that?" he begged, a sad sternness entering his eyes.

"Okay."  
>Instead he kissed her, in a way she had never been kissed before. Eager kisses filled with something more than excitement and desire. Kissed that felt sadder and stronger than she had felt before. She forgot all her questions. She forgot everything. Except him,<p>

…

She felt drunk and at the time same perfectly clear. She could suddenly feel everything, his hands around her waist and his lips on hers and the grass behind her head. And she could smell everything; detergent and her own perfume and the scent of early spring.

"It's getting really late now" she whispered, tearing her face away from his to inspect the darkness.

"You're cold" he said.

She hadn't noticed. She had felt everything except how cold she was.

"Yes" she said, surprise in her voice.

"I wish we could stay longer."

"Me too."

She got to her feet and extended a hand to him.

"We could go to my place" he said, standing up next to her.

"Your mother's there. Not my biggest fan."

Puck smiled a sad smile. She wondered how much it hurt him that his mother didn't approve of her. She wondered why it mattered. It wasn't like they were getting married and having kids.

"We could go to my house" she said.

"Have you forgotten about the shitload of people who live there?"  
>"It's a work night; they'll all be asleep."<p>

He grinned.

"You going to sneak me in?"

"If you can keep your mouth shut and leave before they wake."

"God, I feel dirty."

"Shut up."

He draped an arm around her waist and she was relieved because she didn't know if she could have survived the walk to the car without touching him.

…

"This is your room?" Puck asked in a hushed voice. "God, you really are a princess, aren't you?"

She rolled her eyes and sat down on her bed. He slowly circled the room, lifting the lids of jars and opening dressers and looking awed. She remembered when Richard had been here; how wrong it had felt. Puck clearly didn't fit in here either but it didn't seem to matter. She wanted him to stay anyway.

"Everything is so pink and frilly and…"

"I've had it like this since I was five" she snapped.

He grinned.

"And here's the window" he continued. "Where I first caught you ogling me…"

"I did not…"

"Handy little window seat you have here, did you have it built so that you could look at me?"

"Shut up."

And suddenly she was done with the game of inspecting her room. She wanted him to kiss her again. She pulled him down on her soft bed with a her flower-patterned comforter.

"Control yourself, woman" he told her.

She rolled her eyes and silenced him with a kiss. She let her hands wander under his shirt, to the soft skin of his stomach and his chest. He pulled the t-shirt off without her even having to say something. She liked to see how his muscles flexed under her fingers.

"I saw you up here, you know" he whispered against her shoulder. "And I waited for you outside the gates that night. You remember?"

"Yes" she breathed.

"They all said that I was crazy, all the other workers. I kept talking about you, how we would end up together, you know, I was messing around. And they told me to keep my mouth shut or I would get fired."

"I heard you once" she confessed. "I heard you once when you said that you were going to marry me."

He began to unbutton her dress and she didn't stop him. She wanted to feel the heat radiating from his body without the cotton between them. She shrugged out of dress and bent down to kiss him again but he stopped her.

"Let me look at you" he whispered.

And for the second time, both today and ever, she felt nervous as his eyes drank her in.

"Kiss me instead" she begged.

He did. But it wasn't enough. She wanted more.

"You have to stop me" he breathed roughly in her ear. "You have to stop me before I go too far."

"I won't."

"What?"

"I don't want you to stop."

He froze and stared up at her face. His cheeks was flushed.

"What about waiting?"

"I don't want to anymore."

"Quinn…"

"This is better" she said, pulling his face closer to hers. "This is the time."

"It's not your wedding night" he protested.

"I'm not the marrying kind" she replied, once again stealing his words.

He grinned.

"You sure?"

She nodded. She and her body have never been surer of anything.

…


	12. no, no, no, it ain't me babe

_(i keep forgetting to thank you all for the wonderful comments and reviews you leave for this story. it literally makes everything better. thank you. and i'm sorry for not updating this often enough. you know, it's summer and i have a full time job and you know. i just wanted to say thank you. you are wonderful.)_

She watched his sleeping body in the early morning light without a single thought in her head. She took in the curve of his spine, how dark his skin looked against her sheets and how he breathed deeply. She took in the smell of sweat and heat but it took her almost half an hour to get up to open her window. Her body was sticky with sweat and the cold wind chilled more than she had expected. She grabbed his t-shirt from the floor and pulled it over her head. And still no constructive thought entered her mind. It was like her brain had been put on pause of a night. All the worry and anxiety had melted away. She could only take in facts; the sun was rising, her body ached with tiredness and boy was sleeping in her bed. For a few seconds she hovered near the window before climbing back into bed next to him. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder.

"You're cold" he mumbled sleepily.

"Am I?" she asked.

…

He still had his head, though, which was lucky since must have lost hers on that field last night.

"Hey" he mumbled, thinking she was asleep. "I have to go. Before everyone wakes up."

She smiled unwillingly and then tried, really _tried_, to think straight.

"Right" she said vaguely.

Puck looked at her like she had gone mad.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes" she said quickly, probably making him doubt her even more.

"Where are you hiding that worried frown that you usually wear?" he teased her.

"I don't know" she said, not even being able to give him a snide remark in return.

"I'm getting worried, have you gone mad?"

She smacked his cheek softly.

"I'm _fine_."

"Get annoyed with something or your mother will know that something's up."

"Shut up or you will be the source of the annoyance" she snapped back.

Puck feigned exhaling in relief.

"And there's the Quinn Fabray we know and love."

He bent down and kissed her. Her lips were almost sore.

"How do you feel?" he asked again. "About… last night?"

Her mind was still too dazed to explain what she felt. She didn't know how to explain this feeling; that everything was simple and easy and warm. That just looking at him made her stomach turn with something she didn't understand.

"Good" she said finally, almost smiling at how little that word covered.

"Good…" he said. "Look, I really have to get going."

She sat up in bed and pressed the comforter to her chest in some kind of sudden embarrassment. He rolled her eyes to that.

"Don't fall down the stairs and wake everyone up" she told him.

"I promise."

He kissed her again and her fingers linger around his neck, remembering how she kissed the soft skin just above his collar bone last night.

"Have a good day at work" she said lamely.

He smiled.

"I will. You get some sleep, okay? I feel like I'm leaving you with permanent brain damage."

As the door closed behind him, she thought that perhaps he was.

…

"Quinn? Quinn? Are you listening to me?" Richard asked, with a slight note of annoyance in his voice.

"Yes" Quinn lied.

"Copper or steel?" he asked, probably for the fifth time and pointed at a rack of pots and pans.

"I don't know" she sighed. "You should ask your maid."

"Mary."

"What?"  
>"Her name is Mary."<p>

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"Ask Mary then."

Richard raised his eyebrows. He was, with right, irritated about how disinterested she was in shopping necessities for house. The house that was furnished already, but Richard wanted some things of their own too. Quinn couldn't have cared less.

"Copper or steal?" he urged her.

"I really don't know" she began "Fine. Copper."

He nodded picked up a big, copper pan and studied it closely. Quinn couldn't help but tap her feet. Every movement he made was slow and careful. They had already been inside the store for forty minutes and only moved ten feet.

"Just pick one" she snapped.

Richard look up at her, real hurt on his face and she regretted her harsh tone.

"Sorry" she sighed. "I'm just feeling antsy today."

"I can tell" he muttered dryly.

She looked around the store. Couples walked hand in hand down the organized rows of cutlery. They all looked absurdly in love. She wondered what people thought when they looked at her and Richard. Her body was angled away from his, her arms crossed. He still wore that hurt look and kept examining that pot. They must look like a couple who had been married for years; the kind of couple who's the love just wears off after a few years.

"We'll take the steel one" he said.

"Great" she said, not even trying to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

…

"Can you have doubts if you never really wanted do it in the first place?" Quinn asked.

"No" Santana said, looking up from her menu. "Then it's just called realization."

Quinn wanted to tell her. In that moment, she really did. She wanted to say _Santana, I have sex with Puck and it was the scariest and best thing that ever happened to me_. She hadn't told anyone; who could she talk to about this? For the first time she understood the feeling Frannie must have had when she woke Quinn up in the middle of the night to tell her about her first date with Carlton.

"I really don't want to marry Richard" she said instead.

"Of course you don't" Santana drawled. "Not now when you finally let Puck into…"

"He told you?" Quinn interrupted.

"Didn't have to" Santana smiled and opened her mouth to continue talking.

"Don't say anything" Quinn warned her.

"Why not? I can give you some tips. I know everything there is to know about Noah Puckerman's desires."

Quinn made a gagging noise.

"I temporary forgot about you two."

And she had. And now it tugged at her heart. The way Puck had looked at that night; how many other girls had he looked at like that? It was big deal to her, of course. Not to him. He had done it a thousand times before. With Santana and tons of other girls that Quinn didn't know. She had never wanted be one of those girls, another notch in the bed post.

"How did you find out?" she asked, suddenly not able to look at Santana's face.

A wave of anger, almost hatred, coursed through Quinn's body at the thought of Santana.

"He was happy" Santana said, almost softly. "Really happy."

Quinn stared at her hands, feeling the feeling of anger leave her as quickly as it had come. Instead, a blush colored her cheeks red. She almost felt embarrassed.

"What did he say?"

Santana groaned.

"What is this? Middle school?"

"God, I really don't want to do what you did in Middle School."

Santana laughed. She seemed less frail today, less angry, less hurt. Quinn was afraid to ask anything, scared that Santana would close up like a clam. They all had their soft spots, she guessed. Puck had his father, Santana had her girl and Quinn had Richard. Or Puck. It differed.

"How do you feel then, Fabray?" Santana asked, smirking. "Happy?"

"I don't want to talk about this with you."

"I think you do. Who else do you have to talk about your affair with?"

"Ouch."

Santana shrugged and finished Quinn's coffee in one big gulp.

"Spill" she ordered.

"No. You'll just tell him what I said."

"No, I won't" Santana told her, looking affronted. "I'm not that much of a bitch."

"You'll keep my secret then?" Quinn asked, smiling.

"Yeah, sure."  
>"Doesn't that mean that we're friends?"<br>"Shut up, Fabray or I'll tell how your cheeks turn pink when you talk about him."  
>Quinn finally looked up from the table. Santana's gaze was steady and instead of hatred, Quinn was filled with warmth. She liked Rachel and Brittany and the others, because they were so like herself. She liked Emma, because she was nice and kind and wonderful. They were all good friends. But Santana wasn't nice and she and Quinn had very different upbringings. Their friendship was tangled and strange and it felt like an accomplishment. In a good way.<p>

"I'm glad I didn't wait until the wedding night" she confessed.

…

She handed him a sandwich and a glass of lemonade.

"I brought my own lunch, you know."

"I know."

They sat down behind some trees. She found herself feeling a bit nervous, trying to find the right words. He ate the sandwich with relish. She watched his fingers, thinking about how they touched her skin that night. It made her shudder with something between pleasure and humiliation.

"Thank you" he said.

"Sure."  
>"I could get used to this."<p>

She stared down at her hands again. Her bright diamond ring reflected the sunlight and caught her attention. She covered it with her other hand.

"How are you?" she asked politely.

"I'm fine. How are you?" he asked, amused.

"Fine."  
>"You know, this is probably the only time I've seen you shy."<br>"I'm not shy."

"Is it because I saw you naked?"

"Shut up."

He grinned. She wanted to both kiss him and smack his face. She did neither.

"How was it?" she began. "If you compare it to your other… girls?"

Puck raised his eyebrows.

"What?"  
>"Nothing."<br>Her hands hadn't been this closely looked at in years.

"I don't _compare _sex" he said, almost sounded a little hurt.

"Fine."

"It's not like I have a scoreboard with me…"

"_Fine_."  
>When she finally looked up, she saw that he was grinning. She rolled her eyes at him.<p>

"Are you feeling self-conscious?" he asked.

"No."

"I didn't know you could look this embarrassed."

"You make me sound like some stuck up bimbo."

"Well…"

She elbowed him hard in the ribs and made him double over to catch his breath.

"I don't want to talk about it" she said sternly.

"You brought it up."

"Whatever."

"_Whatever_? Since when do you say _whatever_?"

"Shut. Up."

He caught both her wrists and pulled her closer. His kiss was sweet and too short and made her even more nervous. Quinn was never nervous. She had been valedictorian for Christ's sake, spoken for ten minutes in front of hundreds of people without a single butterfly in her stomach. And now, a kiss made her tremble.

"Are you coming to the bar tonight?" he asked.

"Still on the mission to destroy your liver?"  
>"Nah, just giving it something to work on while I'm gone."<br>She sucked in her cheeks at the last three words; _while I'm gone_. The night they had spent together really had changed nothing. He was still leaving. Just like she was still getting married.

"Yes" she said. "Yes, I'll come. "

"Good" he smiled, again leaning in to kiss her lips. "I have to get back to work. Thanks for the sandwich."

She watched him walk off with a spring in his step. He seemed carefree and happy, a big contrast to the man who hadn't been able to look her in the eye a few weeks ago. But who was she to talk? She didn't feel like the same person anymore either.

…

"Where are you going?" Frannie asked.

She had Laura in her arms and peered suspiciously at Quinn the half-closed door.

"Out."

"Why who?"

"Richard."  
>"Wearing that?"<br>Quinn looked at herself. She wore a black dress that she had used during lazy days at college. It was soft as silk and flared out to make her look like she had curves; however it was well-used and almost frayed at the trims. Not a date night dress.

"Yes."  
>"You better sneak out. If mom catches you wearing that she will kill you."<p>

"I'm marrying him, Fran. He'll see me wearing uglier things than this dress."

Frannie shrugged.

"Fine" she said, but didn't leave.

Quinn wondered what her sister was doing tonight. Carlton had left after work, mumbling something about a car show in Little Rock. Quinn wondered if he was going to see that girl. She wondered if Frannie wondered too. Or maybe she knew.

"He came to talk to me" Frannie said suddenly. "Rich, I mean."  
>"Oh."<p>

Quinn brushed blush onto her cheeks and tried to act nonchalant.

"He was worried that you were having doubts."

Quinn had shocked that Richard had the wits to understand the signals she was clearly sending out. She had thought that he was oblivious to it all.

"About what?" she asked, playing dumb.

"Moving to Dallas, getting married… All of it."

"And what did you tell him?"  
>"I said that you were happy. Because you seem happy. The last few days you've been happier than I've ever seen you."<p>

Quinn paused with the brush an inch away from her cheek. Images of Puck strolling around this room made her cheek pink without needing the blush.

"Good" she said.

"You can't really blame him, Q."

"I've never been the cheerleader, peppy type. Not like you."

"No, but you've always been a good faker. Unlike me."

They exchange a look that made Quinn want to hug her sister so tight that all the sorrow left her. Instead she stared at her own reflection in the mirror.

"He knows that I'm not overjoyed about moving. I went along with it and he knows that."

"And the marriage? Does he know that you're overjoyed about that either?"

"Don't put words in my mouth."

"It's hard not when you won't tell me how you feel."

"I'm fine, Frannie."  
>"The weeks before my wedding day, I was ecstatic. Don't you remember? I kept putting on the dress and trying out different hairstyles and smiling the whole time. Don't you remember? You almost moved out because you couldn't stand it."<p>

"You just said that I seem happy. Happier than ever or whatever you said."

"Yes" Frannie said slowly. "Yes. But I have a feeling it's not about the wedding."  
>Quinn tried to ignore the long look at her sister shot her. She pinned her hair up, grabbed her purse and squeezed past Frannie in the doorway.<p>

"It's all good, Fran" she said hurriedly.

…

He waited for her outside. A feeling of joy and relief hit her as he wrapped his arms around her in a welcoming hug.

"You're late" he said into her hair.

"Sorry."

She kissed him before she could change her mind and turn shy. It was intended as a quick _hello_-kiss but he cupped the back of her head and made it last longer. She inhaled the scent of him, wondering if he had always smelled this good.

"Hi" she mumbled as the kiss ended.

"Hey" he said softly, rubbing the lipstick off his lips.

He put an arm around her shoulders as they stepped into the bar. It looked even more rundown and tired to Quinn than it had before.

"Quinn!" Kendra called and hugged her.

Puck's arm left her as he went to hug Emma and Santana. She felt lonely without it, cold and unprotected. She squeezed down on the bench next to him even though there was a chair free next to Brian. She just couldn't stand not touching Puck. Even his thigh against hers was enough.

A few other people arrived and again he moved away from her. Girls in short skirts and with long eyelashes kissed his cheek and laughed at his lame jokes. Quinn wondered how many of them he had slept with. She wondered if he had touched them like he had touched her and if he had whispered the same things in their ear. And then she hated all them, all the girls with their flirty smiles. And then she hated him, for being a player and for sleeping with all those girls. And then she hated herself for convincing herself that she was special.

"I need some air" she mumbled to Emma and headed for the door.

She may have bumped into one of the girls on her way out, it may not even have been an accident. She stumbled into the night and stood there and hated herself for being so stupid, so naïve. He had changed her, she had never been this fragile before.

"They're just girls, Q" Santana drawled as she exited the bar and lit a cigarette. "Want one?"

Quinn was on the verge of saying no, but shrugged and took a cigarette from Santana's pack. Her hands trembled as she lit it.

"I don't feel well" she said with a constricted voice.

"It's call jealousy, honey."

"No, it's not."

She dropped the cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out with too much force. Santana just watched her with a curios look on her face.

"You knew that he wasn't a virgin."  
>"I don't want to talk about it."<br>"He's never lied to you about that."

"Santana, please…"

"He doesn't care about them, you know. They're not his exes or friends, they're just girls."

"I'm just a girl."  
>"You are a lot of things, Quinn Fabray, but you're not just a girl."<p>

Santana took Quinn's arm and looped them together. The cigarette smoke stung in Quinn's nose.

"Let's go back inside."

"Okay" Quinn mumbled.

She left the anger in the night and followed Santana back to the table. Puck wasn't talking to the girls anymore. He was talking with Brian about ketchup. When she sat down next to him, he turned to smile at her. She smiled back. Maybe she was being stupid and naïve. Maybe. But it felt good.

…

After a few disgusting beers she leaned against his shoulder. She was sleepy and he was soft and warm. Absentmindedly he kissed the top of her head.

"You want me to drive you home?" he asked.

She nodded. His arms linked around made her feel safe and tiny. Like when Grace had covered her in layers of duvets and comforters when she was little.

"What about you?" she whispered.

"I'll walk home from your place."

"It's cold."

"No, it's not."  
>She stood up, feeling unsteady.<p>

"The night is young, Puckerman" one of the guys called. "Stay a bit longer."

"Quinn's falling asleep" he said.

"She your girl?" someone else asked.

"Yes" Puck said.

Quinn smiled at the certainty in his voice. She had never wanted to be anyone's girl before. Only girls like Frannie and Rachel wanted to be someone else's property. Quinn was her own person.

"She looks too fancy for you" the first boy said.

"She is" Santana drawled. "We keep telling her."

Puck faked strangling her as they walked past her chair. Santana blew him a kiss.

"Call me in the morning" she said.

Quinn wondered if she was talking to Puck or her. Probably Puck.

"What happened to never drinking again?" he said as they got into her car.

She handed him the keys and leaned back against the seat.

"I keep forgetting that promise."

"I have a feeling that when you're drunk you turn into your fourteen old self."

"Pimply?"

"I doubt you ever had a pimple in your life."

"Hah."

He turned the engine on and backed out onto the road. Quinn closed her eyes as the darkness enfolded them.

"I'm sorry" she whispered.

"For what?" he asked quickly.

"For being drunk. I know I'm being a handful."

She could hear him chuckle.

"It's fine" he said. "This way I get to meet the teenage Quinn Fabray for the first time."

Quinn scoffed.

"You're lucky that you didn't know me back then. I was ruthless, self-assured, pretentious. Horrible."

"I'm sure you were a delight."

"No."  
>"I don't think you would have liked the old me either. I was the town bad boy, remember?"<p>

"More than now?"  
>He laughed.<p>

"Look at me, designated driver, living with mother and working at an honest job. I turned out great."

She opened her eyes and stared out into the night. No lights lit up the road.

"Husband material" she smirked.

He didn't answer. She was too tipsy to realize what it was she had said that had killed the mood.

"Thank you" she just said. "For driving me home."

"Sure" he said curtly.

…

"Is it too dark?" Judy asked.

"A bit" Frannie answered.

Quinn had her eyes closed as her mother tried out wedding makeups. Her hands moved over Quinn's face, as soft as a wind and as certain as an expert. Eye shadow and mascara and lipstick in different shades and colors were painted on and then rubbed off to try something new.

"You think?" Judy asked, hesitating.

"She's going to wear white, mama. She'll look like a panda with the much eyeliner" Frannie insisted.

Quinn smiled.

"Don't move" Judy snapped. "I'm re-doing your lips."

This was a tradition. Judy had never taken a single makeup class (yes, those existed as the local beauty school), but for every big occasion she was the one to make the Fabray sister's pretty. Prom and first dates and graduation. Quinn or Frannie sitting on the stool in their parents' room, in front of the dressing table with the big mirror. In her teens, Quinn often got irritated and restless with the countless re-tries, now she thought it was relaxing.

"I wore that lipstick to my wedding" Frannie said.

Quinn could detect a note of sadness in her voice. Judy did not.

"Yes. It looked marvelous with your complexion."  
>"Can't you try red on Quinn?"<br>"No, that's too vulgar. This is a wedding, Frannie, not some common shindig."

"I like red" Quinn mumbled, trying not to move her lips too much.

"The mayor is coming to this wedding, Quinn" her mother said, sighing.

Quinn couldn't hold back a giggle. Judy sighed even deeper.

"You girls…" she muttered with a smile.

Frannie joined in with the laughter. Quinn opened her eyes to see her sister smile. It felt like ages she had seen it last. Warmth spread through her.

"When I become a whore, can I wear red then?" Quinn asked.

Her mother shook her head.

"Keep your mouth shut, Quinn Fabray. I don't know what's got into you. Your language is hideous."  
>"Maybe it's Richard's influence" Frannie giggled.<p>

"Richard would never use the word _whore_ to this mother" Judy argued.

"Fine; prostitute" Quinn said. "Mother, when I become a prostitute, can I wear red lipstick?"  
>Judy shook her head tiredly.<p>

"If you become _that_, you can have whatever makeup you choose. I won't care if you disgrace me like that."

Frannie giggled but Quinn lost her smile quickly. Even though her mother's words were said as a joke, full with laughter, they made Quinn queasy.

…

Richard looked old. That was the first thought that struck her as he walked up her porch. He had dark circles under his eyes and a few strands of grey hair stood out in his hair. He had aged ten years over night.

"I can't go with you to Dallas today" he told her seriously. "I have to go the hospital; my mother's ill."

"I'm sorry" she said, extending a hand to pat his arm.

It was the first time she had touched him out of real emotion. She could see the stress and worry on his face and she honestly wanted to comfort him.

"We can go next weekend" he said.

"No, it's fine" she said. "Don't worry. I'll go by myself."

She held out her hand for the key. He hesitated before dropping their new house key into her palm.

"Call me when you get back" he said.

"Sure."

He nodded.

"I'm sorry, Richard" she said and those words might be the first ones she said to him that she really meant.

He seemed have detected the new string of empathy in her voice.

"I'm sure she'll be fine" he mumbled.

She took a step forward and embraced him. It was a stiff and awkward. She had never been a hugger and Richard was in too much shock to return it. It didn't matter, Quinn was glad that she had done it.

"Drive safe" he said.

"I will."

…

"What are you doing today?" she asked, twirling the telephone cord around her finger.

"Not much" Puck answered on the side of the telephone line.

"You wanna go to Dallas with me?" she asked, too fast.

She sounded like some thirteen-year old who was asking a boy out on a first date. Shaky and ready for him to decline.

"Where's Richard?"  
>"His mother's ill."<br>"So you call me?"

She scuffed.

"Fine. I was just asking. I thought it would be nice, you know, you've lived there and…"

"Okay, I'll go with you."  
>"You will?"<br>"Yeah."  
>The feeling of happiness that spread through Quinn was not in proportion to this situation. If he had said no, she would have asked Frannie or Rachel or Brittany. She had other options. It wasn't like she was desperate.<p>

"What do I need to bring?"

"Nothing. I'll pick you up in an hour."

"We'll take your fancy car, then?" he teased.

"Yes. You see, brakes are kind of good to have if you're driving."  
>"Functioning brakes are for amateurs."<br>"Amateurs who live."

He laughed. She smiled too.

"An hour?" he asked.

"Yeah" she breathed, wishing she had said ten minutes.

…

"You want one?" he asked.

"No. Didn't I tell you to not eat in the car?"

He dug deep in the bag of chips and stuffed a handful into his mouth. She made a face. The smell of fat and oil made her feel sick.

"I'm hungry."  
>"We're almost there."<br>"If with _almost _you mean two hours."

She sighed at him.

"You are a child, aren't you?"

"No, just really easily bored."

Quinn turned the radio up. He turned it down.

"Let's talk."  
>"We've been talking for four hours."<p>

"What's wrong with Richard's mother?" Puck asked.

"I don't know" Quinn said. "I forgot to ask."

"Do you like her?"  
>"I don't know" she said again. "She's alright."<p>

"Richard's father's a doctor, right?"  
>"Yes."<p>

"My mother works with him."

Quinn's fingers suddenly cramped tight around the steering wheel.

"I mean" Puck continued. "She could find out if you want."

"Right."

She relaxed one finger at a time before they turned white. Puck had been right that time; Elisabeth Puckerman would never tell anyone about their relationship. She loved her son too much.

"I really like your mother" she said. "She helped Frannie a lot during the pregnancy. She was calm and collected and didn't call the social services on my family."

Puck chuckled.

"She's seen a lot of shit. I'm sure your family seemed fine in comparison."

Quinn bit her lip and stared hard the red corvette in front of them.

"I'm sorry that she doesn't like me anymore" she said with a constricted voice.

"Me too" Puck said, his voice almost completely serious.

"Maybe she will again…"

"Maybe. Maybe when you get married and stay the fuck away from me."

Quinn flinched at his suddenly harsh words.

"I'm sorry" she mumbled.

"Don't be" he sighed. "_I'm _sorry. I just fucking hate the world sometimes."

When he pulled out a bag of chips from his backpack, she didn't complain. She even opened her mouth so that he could place one on her tongue as she drove. The salty chip melted on her tongue as they drove in silence. The smell this made her nauseous, but the taste was just as good as always.

"Let's forget about the world then" she suggested. "Just for today."

He grinned, again looking like a little boy, the one who constantly asked how much longer this car ride would be.

"Yeah. Nothing exists."  
>"No" she agreed.<p>

"There's just you and me and this car and that stupid house you're moving into."

"And this bag of chips."

He winked at her and turned the volume up on the radio again.

…

"I can't imagine you living here" he said.

"Me either. Not really."

She unfolded the blankets and comforters that had been the reason for the trip. She draped them over the kitchen chairs for the time being. No need the make the bed yet.

"It looks like a museum, something school classes will come to look at in fifty years; _this is what houses looked like in the sixties, kids_."

"It'll be better when we bring more of our own stuff" she said mechanically, repeating Richard's mantra.

"Right" Puck said.

He went past her, up the stairs to the second landing. She had only been up there once and hadn't paid much attention to the four rooms. Three bedrooms and a bathroom.

"The master bedroom" Puck commented in the doorway of the biggest room.

It had big windows towards south and the backyard. The bed came with the house, it was plain and wood. And a double. A big difference from her tiny, girly bed back home.

"And here's where your kids will sleep" he continued as he went into the two remaining bedrooms.

"I told you" she said, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm not the motherly type."

"No one gets a house like this if they aren't planning for kids."  
>She couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Either way, he was probably right. Richard wanted children.<p>

"I'm sorry" she said. "I shouldn't have asked you to come."  
>"It's fine" he said quickly. "It's fine."<p>

He followed her downstairs again. They paused on the bottom of the staircase and took in the living room.

"I can't believe you're actually moving here" he said quietly. "Getting married, yeah, I got my head around that, but moving… I never thought you would."

"I don't want to talk about it. Can't we just pretend this someone else's house?" she pleaded like a little girl, scared to face reality.

He gave her long look and then sighed.

"Donna and Lou" he said.

"What?"  
>"That's their names, the people who own this house. We're housesitting for them."<br>She smiled.

"Where are they?"  
>"Europe. It's their thirtieth anniversary so they flew to Paris this morning."<p>

"Do they love each other? Still? After all these years?"  
>He again gave her a look. She remembered what he had told her that drunken night after the town fair. <em>For someone who claims to love no one you're obsessed with it<em>.

"Yes" he said, sitting down on the couch, pulling her down next to him. "They've had their ups and downs but yes, they still love each other."

"How did they meet?" she asked.

"They were out dancing. With their separate friends and just spotted each other. Donna was the most beautiful girl Lou had ever seen. He introduced himself and swore to himself to marry her one day."

She leaned her back against his chest and he wrapped her arms around her. She wished he would hold her tighter. No matter how tight he held her, it wouldn't be enough.

"I'm hungry" she whispered.

"Too bad Lou and Donna emptied the fridge before they left."

"Can't we go out?"

He tensed for a second.

"No one knows us here" she told him.

He relaxed.

"Yeah, okay. Lou told me about this great place just up the road."  
>"Really?"<br>"No, I spotted it as we drove."  
>She smiled. She had yet to kiss him in this house, the house she was supposed to share with another man.<p>

"Do you want to change or freshen up or whatever?" he asked.

She thought about it. She felt gross from the drive. A shower would be nice. But she was hungry. Very hungry.

"No. Let's just go."

…

"What's our story?" she asked. "How do we know Lou and Donna?"

The restaurant _was _fantastic. She ate her ham and grits with such relish that she had to slow down not to make herself sick.

"I work for him."  
>"Really?"<br>"Yeah, I started out as an assistant, doing paper work and shit. But then good ole Lou realized I was practically natural at drawing buildings."  
>"You're an architect?" she asked.<p>

"Yes."

"And now I'm Lou's associate. We eat lunch together. Donna makes him peanut butter sandwiches and cuts the crust off."

"What do you eat?"  
>"Leftovers from the night before. You don't have time to make me sandwiches; you have to get to work too."<br>"What do I do?" she asked, almost embarrassed about how much she loved this game.

"I think you work in publishing."

The waiter came to ask if they wanted anything else.

"Dessert" Quinn said.

"Aren't you worried about your wedding figure?" Puck teased.

"Nope" she smiled.

"Are you two getting married?" the waiter asked. "Congrats."  
>Quinn met Puck's eyes. They were still playing the game.<p>

"Thank you" Puck said. "We're getting married April 14th."

Quinn ordered chocolate cake and the waiter left them alone again.

"Do we live here?" she asked. "In Dallas?"  
>"Yes, for now. We're moving to New York after the wedding. We just bought a crazy expensive apartment in New York City."<p>

"Wait" she said. "I thought you weren't the marrying kind."

He shrugged, stealing a piece of her cake.

"You changed my mind."

Quinn paid the bill. It wasn't that much about feminism; she just had more cash on her.

…

"We have to get going" Puck said as they stepped out into the cold air. "It's a fucking long drive."  
>She found his hand in the darkness and entwined her fingers with him. She desperately wanted to make the game last longer.<p>

"We could stay" she suggested. "We could drive back tomorrow."  
>"Your mother will worry."<br>"I'll call her."  
>"I have to work on Monday."<br>"You can sleep the whole way back."  
>She couldn't see his face in the darkness and thereby she didn't know what he was thinking. Did he want to leave? She didn't want to. She wanted to stay forever.<p>

"Do you want to spend your first night in this house with me?" he asked.

"It's Donna and Lou's house" she said.

"No, it's not. It's yours and Richard's."

She bowed her head down. She hated reality. Tears burned in her eyes. Tears? Why was she crying over this.

"Yes" she said.

"Yes, what?"  
>"I want to spend it with you."<br>He was quiet for almost a minute.

"Alright."  
>She swallowed down the tears.<p>

"Let's go back" he said. "I think I saw some of Lou's scotch in the bookshelf."  
>She smiled. The game was back on.<p>

…

_We built a family in this house, now it's your turn_. Quinn read the former occupants note that hung around the bottle of scotch that Puck had mentioned. She threw it into the fire they had built when they got back from the resturant.

"I don't want to get drunk" she said.

"Okay."

"I don't want you to be either."

"Okay."

She pulled up her legs under her chin. Puck took a sip of the brown liquid.

"Nope" he said. "I will never taste the difference from this and cheap one I buy at home."

She smiled. He smiled back. The TV showed a newscast in the background but Quinn didn't pay attention. Nothing matter but them.

"Come closer" he said.

She did. He kissed her before she could prepare. It was deep kiss; the kind that meant more. One of his hands caressed her stomach under her shirt. It went further up, to her breast. It hurt. She felt sore.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked.

"No. I'm just sore."

"Going to have your _time of the month_?"  
>"God, I can't believe you said that."<br>He laughed into her ear and retracted his hand. She kissed him again to prove that it had nothing to do with him. She wanted to come up with something to say but no words came to her. And maybe they weren't really needed in the end. She let him kiss her and she kissed him back and the fire went out and the TV turned back and they kept kissing.

"I wish we could stay like this forever" she told him when he had fallen asleep.

She kissed his forehead and smoothed out the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows.


	13. everything inside is made of stone

_(i'm sorry for not updating in forever, i've been traveling and working and you know, life gets in the way. thank you for being so patient and sending me those lovely reviews to inspire me. )_

She woke alone on the couch. Her neck ached from half-sitting all night. The living room was empty but she could see that the coffee maker had been used. She got up, stretched and poured herself a cup. It was cold, she realized, and emptied it down the drain.

"Hello?" she called.

For a second she was certain that he had left; that he had taken the bus back home, that he had finally got fed up with her.

"Out here!" he called back.

She hadn't been out in backyard before. For a house, in a big city, she was sure that the lawn was big. It was just hard to appreciate it when you had grown up on a plantation with fields as far as your eyes could see.

"Hey" she said.

He sat in the dewy grass with his guitar on his lap, carefully strumming in the morning air. Her feet turned wet as she made her way towards him.

"Good morning" he said.

He was wearing the same clothes he had yesterday, jeans and a red t-shirt. She wondered if they smelled like her, just like her clothes smelled like him.

"The grass is wet" she said.

"Yeah" he breathed. "I like it."  
>She sat down next to him, ignoring the cold feeling of water leaking in through the fabric of her dress.<p>

"Does your back hurt?" she asked.

"No, not that bad" he answered, turning to smile at her. "But you know, I'm not a princess. I would be able to sleep on a pea and not be bothered either."  
>She rolled her eyes. She liked his face in the morning light. His eyes still looked sleepy and his chin was covered as dark shadow. She reached out to touch his cheek.<p>

"I need to shave" he commented.

"No, I like it like this" she whispered.

He kissed her, softly, a good morning kiss. The kind of kiss that wasn't filled with passion or desire, but with a welcoming _I'm happy you're here_.

"You want some breakfast?" he asked.

"No, not yet. Play me something."

She lay back on the grass, not caring about getting dirty or wet.

"One day I'll make you play for me again" he said.

"Sure, one day" she agreed.

A flash of sadness hit her. She didn't want to play the piano for him. She had never liked to play in front of people and for some reason she hadn't even touched a piano in months. It wasn't that. It was that she would never play for him, there would never be time. They couldn't just waltz into the church on a Saturday, people would see and people would speculate. And in addition, there wasn't that many Saturdays left until she was Mrs. Adams. And Puck was in Vietnam.

…

"Don't you wanna go to church?" he asked later. "It's Sunday after all."  
>"I think I can skip once."<br>"You think God will forgive you?"  
>She smiled.<p>

"Yes."  
>He flipped the chicken in the pan to cook on the other side. She poured ice tea into big glasses that she had found in a cabinet.<p>

"What else does your God forgive?" Puck asked.

"Don't we share God?" she asked back

He shrugged. It was the first time they spoke religion. Or, the difference between their faiths. It struck Quinn that she knew almost nothing about Judaism despite taking a world religion class in college.

"Do you ever take that necklace off?" he asked, pointing at the small gold cross she wore around her neck.

"No."

"Do you go church every Sunday?"  
>"Yes, almost."<p>

"Do you pray?"

She froze in the middle of pouring.

"No" she said honestly. "I don't."  
>"Why not?"<p>

"I don't like to ask for help."  
>"Says the girl with the maid."<br>Quinn grimaced at him.

"I guess I never had anything to pray for. I've never been sick or bullied or scared."

"You could pray for someone else, you know."

She looked away.

"I'm too selfish for that" she said as if it was a joke.

"Don't say that."

The chicken sizzled in the brand new pan she and Richard had bought.

"Do you pray?" she asked carefully.

"Sometimes."

"What do you pray for?"  
>She turned to look at him. His shirt was stained with grease.<p>

"I don't know."

She didn't pry.

"I pray for my mother to find someone to marry. I pray for Santana to be happy for once in her life. I pray for good weather so that I'll have a lot of work. I pray for my car not to crash."

She laughed.

"So _that's _why it's still running?"

"And I pray for you, Miss Quinn Fabray" he finished, in a joking tone.

"You do?"  
>"Yes."<br>She turned her eyes down, feeling nervous.

"I ask for you to be happy" he said.

"You make me sound like an even worse person now" Quinn whispered.

"No" he said.

"I'll pray for you" she said. "When you go to Vietnam, I'll pray for to be safe every day."

Puck smiled.

"I might be needing that."  
>She didn't bring up that he could stay here. She didn't want to fight.<p>

"No" she said honestly.

"Would it bother your family if they knew about us?"  
>"Yes."<br>"What would bother them more? Me being almost black or me being a Jew?"

She didn't answer and he dropped the subject.

…

When she switched the engine off outside his house, it was past midnight. She had a headache from clenching her teeth so hard to keep herself from falling asleep. Puck had dozed off a few hours ago, his mouth slightly open and his head bouncing against the window with every turn.

"Hey" she whispered lightly. "Hey."

His eyes flickered open. She couldn't help the smile that spread on her face.

"I'm an asshole" he muttered. "Did I fall asleep on you?"

"I'm not the one who has to go to work in five hours."  
>He stretched his arms and rubbed his face. She watched his every move.<p>

"It was a good weekend" she said.

"Yeah" he said.

She leaned over and kissed him. She was afraid that he would be too sleepy to remember to do it and she desperately wanted to kiss him again. It felt like the last time. Every time felt like the last.

"Now go to bed" she ordered, opening his door.

The night was colder than she had expected and she shuddered. Dallas had been warmer.

"Alright" he grinned, fishing his bag and guitar case out of the backseat.

He waved once more and entered the house. She sat outside it for almost ten minutes, just staring out into the black night and trying to avoid a feeling of hopelessness.

…

"She's feeling better" Judy told her the next morning over breakfast.

"Who?"  
>"Richard's mother, of course. She took a turn for the better yesterday afternoon, Richard called to tell you but you were still in Dallas."<br>Quinn nodded slowly as she drank her juice. She poured herself another glass.

"Right."

She hadn't thought about Richard at all and suddenly a feeling of guilt hit her. Not for kissing another man. Not for not being in love with him. No, she felt guilty for forgetting about his mother. He must have been worried about her and she had left anyway, spending the weekend with Puck and not caring at all.

"Did he say anything else?"

"Yes, apparently it was something with the kidneys, don't ask me what. She's still in the hospital but she'll be fit enough to stand in time for the wedding, he promised."  
>"That's not important, mama."<br>"Of course it is! And don't call me selfish. She wants to be in those wedding pictures and not in a wheelchair."

"They're just pictures."

"Pictures that you will have on your mantle for the rest of your life. The picture you will show your friends and children and grandchildren. You wouldn't want Mrs. Adams to steal the spotlight with a wheelchair, would you?"

Quinn didn't answer.

"Talking about pictures, I want to take a new family portrait, with our new extended family. Carlton and Richard and the kids together with us."

"Sure" Quinn said.

"I'll call the photographer and set a date."

"Sounds great."

Quinn stood up and placed her dishes in the sink.

"Where you going?" Judy called.

"I'm going to call Richard."  
>"Good idea. Ask him to clear his schedule for a Saturday in May for the portrait."<p>

Quinn nodded. She contemplating using the phone in the kitchen but decided against it. Instead she snuck into her father's empty office and dialed Richard's number.

"Hello."

"Hello" she said. "It's Quinn."

"Hi. How did the drive go?" he asked.

His voice sounded thick, like he held back tears.

"Fine" she told him. "How's your mama?"  
>"Better" he said slowly. "They say she's better, but Quinn, she's in so much pain."<br>Quinn hated herself. She really, truly hated herself. She might not love Richard, but she should have stayed this weekend. She should have visited the hospital with him and held his hand and told him that everything was going to be fine. She was the worst person she knew.

"Do you want me to come over?" she asked.

"I'm at work."  
>"I know. I can bring you lunch or something."<p>

She had never before offered to bring him lunch. She didn't even know where he worked.

"No" he said. "No, it's fine. Come over tonight instead. I miss you."

She didn't want to say it; didn't want to lie.

"I miss you too."  
>He needed to hear that lie and she needed to say it. It made things a little better for him and a little worse for her.<p>

…

She took his hand because that was that you were supposed to do. She held his hands and let him almost cry in her arms on the couch. She whispered soothing things into his ear, patted his back and kissed his forehead. They stayed like that for hours. He was a grown man with a sick mother and he was devastated about it. She was a girl who couldn't understand that kind of grief but was trying to play the part of the devoted fiancée.

"I'm glad I have you" Richard whispered.

He slid his hands down and under her shirt. She let him because he was sad and she was probably the worst person in the world. His hands were rough and his fingers rugged and it hurt.

"I want you" he whispered.

"I know" she said.

"Don't you want me?"

She let him lower her down on the couch. She let him move on top of her, kissing her face and her neck. She let him undo her bra; she let his fingers move around her chest. She did it because she had to compensate. She had to get redemption for her actions, for being a selfish bitch.

"Don't you want me?" he asked again, his time panting in her ear.

"Yes" she mumbled.

"Do you?"

"I'd rather wait" she told him honestly.

"I'd rather do it now."

"Okay."

He pulled his shirt off. He looked nothing like Puck. He smelled nothing like him either. Or felt like him. She closed her eyes and told herself that it didn't really matter. She had already ruined the whole virgin thing.

"Kiss me."

She kissed him, she really tried to like it.

"Kiss me again" he ordered her.

She did. He pulled her dress off. She lay naked on the leather couch that stuck to her skin. She was too afraid to ask him to go to the bed. She just lay there, immobilized.

"You are the most beautiful girl in the world" he said.

"Thank you."

And then he started crying. Big tears dripped onto her stomach. He moved away from her, hiding his face in his hands. She lay still, not knowing what to do.

"She might die" he whispered.

She carefully sat up and pulled on the dress.

"She won't die" she said.

"Do you promise?"

"No, I can't promise that."

He cried harder. It was the most pathetic and heartbreaking thing she had ever seen.

"Richard" she said sternly. "She won't die. Everything will be fine."

He nodded.

…

"What about this one?" Emma asked.

She held out a pale blue dress that Judy had bought for Quinn a few months ago. It was too frilly for her own taste but it would probably fit Emma perfectly.

"Try it on" Quinn said.

Emma had called and begged for help with what to wear to the wedding. Nothing she had owned was expensive or fashionable enough. Quinn had her told to borrow something and Emma had jumped to the chance to save money.

"What about me?" Santana asked.

"Are you coming to my wedding?"

"Emma's bringing me as her plus one, right Ems?"  
>Emma looked up from buttoning the dress. It was a bit too long and wide over the shoulders but it worked.<p>

"Sure" she said.

Quinn raised her eyebrows at Santana. She hadn't asked her to come to the wedding, thinking that she wouldn't want to be there.

"Your boobs won't fit into my dresses" Quinn told her.

"Don't be jealous, honey."

Santana riffled through the garments in Quinn's closet. She pulled out a red lace dress that Quinn had worn for some college event. On her it looked old fashioned and cute, however, on Santana it looked completely different. The fabric strained over chest and ended well over the knee. She looked hot.

"You know that we're going to be inside a church, right?"

"Don't be such a prude. I look fucking sexy."

Quinn sighed. She didn't really care what Santana wore. It would be nice to see her face in the crowd.

"So you're still going through with this whole wedding thing?" Santana asked.

"Looks like it."  
>The house was empty and still Quinn didn't feel comfortable about talking about it. She felt like her mother would find out and then everything would get fucked up.<p>

"I heard Puck went with you to your new place."

"Yes."  
>"Did you have nice time playing house?"<br>Santana's tone wasn't harsh but Quinn could hear the dark undertones anyway. She averted her eyes.

"We weren't playing…"

"But you were. Playing some game where he doesn't leave and you don't get married. Some game where he's white and you're in love and shit just works out. Right? Isn't that the game you are playing?"

"Santana…" Emma said in a warning tone.

Quinn just shook her head slowly. The weeks were slipping away. She didn't want to feel bad yet.

"Just answer the question, Quinn. Did you have a nice time playing house?"

"Yes, we did."  
>"Good enough for me."<p>

"It doesn't matter, San. I'm getting married in less than a month. You're wearing the dress to prove it."

"No, darling. This is just a dress. The invitations you sent out, that's just paper. You can still take it all back."

"And marry Puck instead?"

"Or maybe marry something you actually love."

"I don't love anyone."

"Bullshit."

…

"Are you stress-eating?" Frannie asked as Quinn stuffed her mouth full with mashed potatoes.

"No."

"Don't do that, darling" Judy sighed. "We've tailored the wedding dress, remember?"

"I'm just hungry."

"Just please don't gain weight."

Quinn rolled her eyes. Sometimes moving away didn't seem like such a bad thing.

"Getting married is stressful, baby" Judy went on. "I myself lost ten pounds just worrying if I'd be thin enough."

"I'm fine."  
>"Just take half portions from on, okay?"<p>

"Mom, she's the thinnest person on this planet already. If you make her diet, she'll break in half" Frannie sighed.

Quinn looked down at herself. Had she gained weight? Was she stressing out because of the wedding? She felt nervous and jumpy about everything these days.

"Richard likes them thin" Carlton added the conversation.

Quinn shot him a look full of hatred but he looked the other way. She had to find another way to hurt him.

"I can't believe it's been so long since you two got married" Judy said, touching Frannie's hand. "It still feels like yesterday."  
>"It does" Carlton agreed.<p>

Quinn wanted to punch him. She suddenly wanted to cry. Her fingers shook and she dropped her fork onto the plate. The clatter made them all look at her. She hated them, in that moment she hated them. She hated Carlton for being the worst person ever imaginable. She hated her mother for being shallow. She hated her father for being unfair and never taking her side. She hated Frannie not for kicking Carlton out, for not exposing for the idiot he was. And most of all she hated herself. Because she was mix of it all. She was evil, she was shallow and she was weak.

"Are you alright?" Frannie asked carefully.

"No" she said and left the table.

…

"Why are you crying?" her sister whispered as she lay down beside Quinn on her bed.

"I don't know."

"I don't believe that."

"I fucked everything up, Fran."

"You could never."  
>"I did."<p>

"Can you tell me what you did?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It would just make everything worse."  
>"Are you sure?"<p>

"Yes."

"Quinny, it can't be that bad. You're not the one with an unfaithful husband and two kids."

Quinn clamped her eyes tight shut to stop the tears from leaking out.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry" she whispered. "I'm sorry for being selfish."

Frannie kissed her forehead lightly.

"Honey, don't be like this. Just tell me what you did."

"I can't. It's too late."

"Is it about the wedding?"

"Frannie, please."

Frannie let out a big breath of air and pulled blanket over the two of them. Quinn kept her eyes closed and her body rigid, but Frannie was soft and gentle. Like a mother, she held her and whispered things. This is what Quinn should have done with Richard, instead of agreeing to have sex and not being able to promise him that it would all be fine. She had so much to learn.

"When did you become a wife?" Quinn asked. "Did you become one the second you said _I do_?"  
>"I don't know, I've never thought about it."<p>

"I think you've always been one. Just like you've always been a mother even when you didn't have a child."

"That's the nicest thing anyone has ever told me, Quinn" Frannie mumbled.

"It's true."

"Your life will change when you marry Richard, but you won't. You'll still be you."

Quinn nodded.

"That was what I was afraid of."

…

"When did you get so big?"

Laura stared at her with big, grayish eyes and smiled. Quinn lifted the baby high into the air and then pressed her close to her chest.

"Maybe you've been too busy to notice her growing" Carlton said, sitting down next to her on the sofa.

Instinctively she shrugged away from him. He looked almost hurt

"Perhaps" Quinn said.

Carlton held his arms out for his daughter but Quinn ignored him.

"You can make me out to be the bad guy all you want, Quinn" he said carefully. "You don't know me."  
>"I know you're an asshole. I know you cheat on your wife. I know you treat your kids like shit."<p>

"When did you start saying words like _asshole?"_  
>"I don't know. Maybe when I found out that you were one."<p>

"Ouch."  
>She bent down to kiss little Laura's soft head. She smelled of baby and calm and happiness.<p>

"I'm not happy, Quinn."

She looked everywhere except at him.

"You have a beautiful wife. You have two great kids and job you seem to like and you live in the prettiest house in the world."

"I know" he said. "I know. It all sounds perfect but it isn't."

"You should let her go then. If you don't love her, you should let her go."

"I can't."

"What do you mean?" she almost spat at him.

"I have nothing. Your dad, he helped with my student loans. He gave me this job and put a roof over my head. I can't just leave. I'm in debt. Without your family, I have nothing."  
>"So what's your plan? Cheat your way through life?"<p>

"I never planned on cheating. I just, I just met this girl and we connected and I wanted to be with her so bad. I knew, no, I know it's wrong, but I can't help it."

Quinn snorted. She stared at his shoes. They were muddy.

"I got into too deep in this mess, Quinn, and now I can't get out."

"You can always get out" she said.

"Not without ruining everything."

She finally faced him. Her emotions were mirrored on his face. They were the same, she and him. She was making the same mistake he had done. How could she hate him for that? Easy. She hated herself too.

"Here" she said, handing him Laura.

He took her without a word and then and there, a truce was declared between them. She would never like him; never respect him, but perhaps he was the closest thing she would ever come to examining herself from outside her own body.

…

She pulled the dress over her head and dropped it on the sandy bank. They were back at the lake, the lake where she had let her guard down so many months ago. This time she had managed to bring a bathing suit. And this time it wasn't dark. And this time, she rushed into the water before he had even locked his truck.

"Is it cold?" he asked.

"No" she lied and diving down under the surface.

It was only march and it felt like ice grabbed hold of her. Instead of resurfacing, she held her breathe longer, torturing herself a few seconds longer. It cleared her head.

"Shit" Puck muttered from the shore. "It's freezing."

Quinn laughed at him, suddenly feeling happy, utterly happy. She floated on the surface, letting her face get warmed up by the sun.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked. "How can you not be cold?"

"I am" she told him.

His skin was wet and her finger slid easily over his chest. He kissed her neck, casually, like it was something he did every day.

"You're strange" he told her.

"Shut up."  
>He lifted her up out of the water. She screamed in delight and fear. Her wet skin was slippery and he lost his grip. The water was even colder when she fell back into it.<p>

"Seriously, what's up with you?" he asked. "Are you on something?"

"_On something_?" she echoed. "Like what, _drugs_?"

"You seem happy."  
>"And usually I'm not, or what?"<p>

"You looked about to cry in the car."

She dived back under the water. She didn't want to think about Carlton or the realization that they were alike. She wanted to be happy and swim and feel the sun on her face.

"I really like to swim" she said when she had resurfaced.

"Clearly."

He pulled her in and kissed her. It hit her that Richard was the last person who had kissed her. The last one who had touched her, had seen her without clothes. She wondered if she should tell Puck, if it mattered, if he would care. And in an instant her smile faltered.

"Hey, what happened now?" Puck asked.

"I'm cold" she said.

He stared at her. She stared back. Then he took her hand and led her back to the shore. She followed him like a tired child.

"You can tell me things, you know" he said as she wrapped herself in a towel.

"Can I?" she asked before she could stop herself.

She hated this moody version of herself and so did probably Puck. She should do everything to savior these last few weeks.

"Half of the time, you look like you're about to cry" he said.

"I'm sorry, I'm just tired."

He kissed her forehead. His lips were warmer than her skin. She wanted to wrap the towel around them both, wanted him closer to her.

"You hate Carlton, don't you?" she asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Do you hate me?"

"No, of course not."

He smelled like sweat and work and sun and nothing like her. She smelled like sunblock and roses and despair. They were too different in the end.

…

"You're nothing like him, Quinn."  
>She liked how he said her name. It sounded better with his voice. Not like a frail, spoiled bitch. Like someone else. Like someone she wanted to be.<p>

"I cheat. I know it's wrong and still, I do it."

"You're not married."

"Yet."  
>"You don't have kids."<br>"Yet."  
>"You're not with Richard for his money."<p>

"My reason isn't much better."  
>He had dirt on his face. She brushed it off with her thumb. They lay on the sandy bank on Quinn's towel and stared up at the stars. She had told him to leave, to go home and get some sleep before work, but he had stayed.<p>

"Excuse me for asking, but what is your reason?" Puck asked.

She didn't answer right away. He waited.

"They all want me to do it. They all want me to get married and have three kids with golden hair and volunteer at the library two times a week."

"And what do you want?"

"That."  
>"Liar."<p>

She nuzzled her face into his shoulder. How could he always be warm? How could she always be cold?

"I don't want to talk about it" she said.

"Alright."  
>"Do you really want to go to Vietnam?" she asked carefully. "What if you get hurt again?"<br>"I won't" he said. "I won't be careless this time."

"Will you write to me?" she asked.

"I don't think your husband would like that."

"Please."  
>"I'm not a writer, Quinn."<p>

She didn't push him.

"I want you to be happy" he said with force.

"I am."  
>"Please don't lie."<br>"I'm as happy as I can be."

"I don't believe that."

She kissed him to prove it. She kissed him and closed her eyes and forgot about everything. Every kiss was like a blast of hot air, making her frozen heart melt. She swallowed down the despair for later.

"I could never hate you" he whispered and she kind of believed him.

…

Richard took her hand in the elevator. He looked like a scared, little boy. Like Jamie when he had been here for his annual checkup.

"I hate it here" he said. "I hate the hospital."

Quinn thought that was probably the most repeated line ever. They walked down a corridor and stopped outside at the end of it. Quinn opened the door and stepped in. Mrs. Adams lay on a bed, watching TV and drinking water from a straw. Other than a bit pale, she looked like her old self.

"Quinn! What a joy to see you!"

Quinn held out the flowers she had picked from the garden and Mrs. Adams gestured towards her nightstand where glossy magazines and expensive chocolate covered the whole surface and Quinn had place the vase on the window sill instead.

"How are you?" she asked.

"I'm weak" Mrs. Adams told her seriously.

"Oh mama" Richard croaked from the doorway.

"I heard you were getting better" Quinn said, "Your husband said that your vitals were getting better and…"  
>"I still feel <em>very <em>ill."

"Of course."  
>It was no mystery who had scared Richard into believing his mother would die.<p>

"I'm trying to recover as fast as I can. I would never want to miss the wedding."

'"Don't worry about that" Quinn said, smiling. "Of course you won't miss it. We'll get married here if you're still in bed."

Mrs. Adams smiled. Quinn slipped so easily into the role of considerate daughter-in-law that she was surprised herself.

"Richard, come over and hold your mama's hand."

Richard shuffled over to his mother and bent down to kiss her wrinkled hand.

"Mama, I pray for you every day."

"Pray that they give me better food. A woman can't survive on peas and gravy."

Quinn suddenly felt very hungry and had to stop herself from snatching a candy bar from her mother-in-laws stash. She would make Richard have lunch in the hospital cafeteria, she wouldn't survive the drive to the country club.

"Did you drive up to Dallas with the quilts and sheets?" Mrs. Adams asked.

"Yes" Quinn said.

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"Weren't you afraid in that big house, all by yourself."

Quinn thought of Puck kissing her on the couch. It almost made her blush.

"No, ma'am. I'm rarely scared."

It was a lie of course. She was scared of most things it seemed.

"And the dress? Is it fitted and ready for the day?"

"Yes. It's perfect."

"My tiara, are you wearing it?"

"Yes, of course."

Mrs. Adams nodded, apparently pleased. She turned her attention away from Quinn and back to the TV.

"Mama needs her rest" she said.

"Let's go" Richard said, taking Quinn's hand.

Quinn let herself be led out and closed the door behind her.

"She's going to fine, Richard" she said quickly.

"She looks so… frail."

"She's not. Come on, I need to eat something."

They walked back to the elevator. It arrived and they stepped in. Already standing there, with a clipboard against her chest, was Elisabeth Puckerman. Their eyes met but neither said anything. Quinn quickly dropped Richard's hand but the damage was already done. She felt Puck's mom's eyes burn on her back as they rode down to ground floor. It felt like beams of loathing.

…

He bought her fries and Quinn ignored her mother's rule about only eating half portions. She even licked the grease of her fingers. Richard looked a bit shocked but she didn't care. If they got married, he would see worse. If. Not if. When they got married, she corrected herself.

"Thank you" he said. "For being with me through all this."

"Of course" she said.

"Through thick and thin, right?"

"Yes" she said.

She looked around the cafeteria. She could see worried people, picking at their pizza slices and stirring their coffee. She should be relieved, things might be messed up, but she was healthy. She had money and a friends and a family. She would be greedy to ask for more.

"Maybe we'll be back here soon" Richard said. "To deliver a baby."

Quinn turned her face away. She had accepted that she would marry him. But kids? It still felt too distant.

"Why would we come here?" she asked. "Why not go to the hospital in Dallas?"  
>Richard laughed.<p>

"You're right. I forgot."

She nodded. Maybe she should vent her feelings about babies. Maybe. But it felt like it wouldn't matter. She would say yes in the end. Because he wanted it and because she owed everything after how she treated him.

"I feel sick" she mumbled, pushing the plate away from her

"Maybe you ate too fast."

"Yes, probably."

Richard examined her face.

"You look tired" he said.

"Thanks."  
>"You need to sleep more."<br>"All I do is sleep" Quinn sighed.

He nodded.

"Right."

"Can we leave?" she asked. "I need some fresh air."

…

Richard dropped her off and she sat on the porch for hours. The thought of going inside made her feel even more nauseous. When the darkness fell, her father joined her. He offered a cigarette as usual and as usual she shook her head.

"It's normal to be nervous" he said.

"Were you?"  
>"Sure."<br>"How did you know that you were ready, dad? To get married?"  
>Russell Fabray lit his cigarette with a lighter. The small flicker of fire lit up the world for two seconds.<p>

"I just did."

"You were young, daddy. Even younger than I am."  
>He put his arm around her, like a daddy should and she leaned into it, just like a daughter should.<p>

"You were never like Frannie" he said. "You had an opinion about everything. Everyone. You read all those books and sat on that window sill. You had boys running after you and you ignored most of them."

"What's your point?" she asked, sounding harsher than she had intended.

"It's time to grow up, baby. You had your fun at college. You've been free. Now it's time to move on."

"Can't I just be me?"

"You can't be a child forever."

"Do you think I act like a child, daddy?"  
>Russell sighed.<p>

"You only care about yourself. That's childish."  
>Quinn nodded, feeling hurt even though what he was saying was true.<p>

"I don't think I know how to care about others."

"You'll learn. It's your job now."

"The only job I will ever have" she mumbled sarcastically.

Her father didn't comment.

"Daddy, how did you know you were ready to have kids?"  
>Russell sighed again, even deeper this time.<p>

"You think too much. It's not about being ready. This is life, things just happen."

He stood up suddenly. She heard him re-enter the house. She was all alone again. By the gates, she could hear some of the workers lingering, sharing a cigarette and talking. She heard Puck's laughter clearer than all of the others. She wondered if she should approach them, say hi and see him again. But no. She shouldn't. Instead she sat on the porch long after they had gone home and the house had turned dark and her back ached.

…


	14. a lover for your life and nothing more

"Carlton changed his mind. He's going out tonight. Is there any chance you can take of the kids for me?" Frannie asked.

She was properly dressed up for the first time in ages. She wore a new dress, one that actually fit and wasn't two sizes too small, and had had her makeup done and her hair was stale with hairspray. She was going out to meet two friends from High School at the club for dinner.

"Sure" Quinn said.

"Both of them, Quinn."

"Yeah, sure. It's fine."

Frannie looked worried. She had the right to be. Quinn had never baby sat two kids at a time. She had no experience.

"Are you certain? I could stay home…"

"No. Go. You look great and you deserve a night out of the house."

"I'm pretty sure Carlton left to be with _her_."

"Probably" Quinn said, averting her eyes.

"I wish he would at least come up with a good excuse."

"I know."

Frannie wrinkled her nose.

"Why aren't you calling him an asshole yet? That's your usual response to anything that has to do with him."

Quinn exhaled.

"I'm sorry, Fran. He's an asshole. He really is."  
>"Right."<p>

She picked up her purse, checked it for her keys and shut it again.

"It's Saturday night, you sure you don't have plans?"  
>"Nope."<p>

Puck was with Santana. Quinn didn't ask if she could join them. She was being selfish, spending so much time with him. Neither of them had ever mentioned it but she understood. They were friends on a different level, in a different way. Like siblings. Like family. She wondered how much it hurt for them to be apart. How Puck could choose to do it again?

"Call the club if there's any trouble."  
>"I won't."<p>

"Laura should sleep through the night. Jamie just needs to brush his teeth and maybe you can read him something and…"

"I'll work it out. Now go."

"You looked pale, Quinn."

"Wedding jitters."

Frannie's eyes lingered on her face a few seconds too long. Quinn tried to collect her features.

"Have fun!" she exclaimed uncharacteristically.

…

_"__You're lucky, Miss Eyre. If you do not love another living soul, then you will not be disappointed_" Quinn read slowly.

Jamie looked up at her through heavy eyelids. His hot body was pressed against her, making it impossible for her to leave. She smiled at it all. She was the kind of girl who read Jane Eyre to a kid. Jaime didn't seem to care. Quinn suspected that he just liked hearing someone talk to him in a soothing voice. It wouldn't have mattered if she would have read a story about bunnies or a classic work of art.

"She never loved anyone?" Frannie asked.

Quinn turned around to see her sister entering the nursery. It was only half past eight. The friends from high school must have been really boring.

"She did" Quinn told her. "She just had to find the right person."

Frannie sat down next to her on the bed and bent down to kiss her son's forehead.

"I missed him" she whispered. "Both of them."

Quinn nodded, like she understood how you could miss someone after just two hours. Like she understood motherhood.

"Who did she love? This Miss Eyre?" Frannie asked.

"You should read the book."

"You know I never will."

"She falls in love with the least likely person. The one who was so different from her. He made her stronger and she made him softer. She wanted to be her own person, to stand on her own legs, and he let her, even if society didn't. And even though he was rich and powerful and she was just poor girl, neither of them cared."

"It sounds beautiful."  
>"It's recognized as an important contribution of feminism literature."<p>

"I don't care about that. I just care about the love story."

Quinn smiled.

"I love it" she said. "It's probably my favorite novel of all time."

"Can't you keep reading? It looks like I woke Jamie up with all my talking."

Quinn nodded.

"Okay."

Frannie lay down next to her son on his small bed. Quinn moved to a chair. She watched them, Jaime's hands clenched around his mother's limbs. Frannie pressed her face against his soft hair. Quinn wished she had a camera. Instead she opened the book again and kept reading, but as the words left her tongue, tears escaped her eyes and dripped down her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" Frannie whispered.

Quinn didn't answer.

…

When Jamie had fallen asleep, Quinn and Frannie went into the kitchen. Frannie, still wearing her fancy dress and jewelry, made them coffee that they drank at the kitchen table. Their parents were out and they were all alone.

"I need to ask you something" Frannie said carefully.

Instantly Quinn's stomach turned to ice. Did she know? No. Impossible.

"Okay."

"Don't get mad, okay?"

"Okay."  
>"Promise?"<p>

"Yes."

Frannie took a sip of her hot coffee. Quinn mimicked her. Her fingers shook so much that she had to hide them under the table. How had she found out? Had she seen Quinn and Puck together? Where? At the lake?

"Is there any chance that you might be pregnant?"

Relief hit Quinn. Frannie had no idea about Puck. No idea. She was still safe.

"No, of course not."

"I won't tell. I promise."

Quinn almost laughed. How could she think that Frannie had known? No one knew.

"Frannie, I'm not pregnant."

"You looked nauseous all the time. You eat heaps of food one day and the next you just shuffle it around on your plate. You have mood swings and look tired and…"

"Frannie…"

"Fine. Just know, you can tell me. I won't tell mama. I won't tell Richard, even though you probably should."

"Come on. I'm not pregnant."

"Just think about it, is there any chance that you _could _be pregnant? No judgment."

Quinn shook her head.

"I'm just nervous about the wedding."  
>"<em>Could <em>you, theoretically, be pregnant? Just think about it."

Quinn looked away, examined the walls and the threes outside the window and the lamp in the ceiling.

"I'll take that as a yes" Frannie said.

"You can't tell."

"I won't."

"But I'm not pregnant."

"Did you use protection?"  
>"I don't want to talk about this…"<p>

"When did you last have your period?"

Quinn's eyes froze a few inches above her sister's head. She couldn't move. Her limbs refused. Her heart seemed to have stopped beating.

"It's okay" Frannie said slowly. "It's not what you planned but Richard will be thrilled and…"

Quinn left. She ran to the bathroom and threw up in the sink.

…

"I'll have a T-bone and a beer, please. And she'll have chicken and white wine" Richard said.

"No" Quinn said quickly.

"No?"

"I want to try something new" she said. "I'll take the T-bone too. And water, please."  
>The waitress nodded and left.<p>

"You always have chicken and wine" Richard said, sounding hurt.

"I know."

"I like knowing your order."

"I'm just sick of the chicken."

He pouted. She stared at him, wondering how much he would hate her if he found about what grew inside her. Someone else's kid. Puck had called her a few times, she had hung up before saying anything. She didn't know what to say.

"Only eleven days" he said. "Until you're mine forever."

She nodded, trying to smile, but couldn't. It was hard to pretend when your life was upside down.

"You seem out of it tonight" he commented.

"Just a lot on my mind."

He leaned across the table to kiss her. The smell of his aftershave made her feel queasy. She wondered how she would be able to stay away from champagne at the wedding. She wrecked her head for the other things you weren't allowed to eat while pregnant. Frannie had made a long list once. Or maybe Quinn wasn't pregnant. Maybe Frannie had just gotten inside her head. She was feeling awful and her period was late but that happened when you were stressed, right? She had read that somewhere or maybe Rachel had told when she was still studying to be a nurse.

"Are you even listening to me?" Richard asked.

"No" she said honestly and harshly. "I feel ill. Can you take me home?"

"We haven't even eaten yet."

"Fine."

She watched him eat and drink. She waited for him to have another beer and then another and then another. Two hours later, he got up, slurred something about her being strange and drove her home. His drunken driving didn't help her upset stomach.

…

As soon as Richard drove off and left her outside gates, someone grabbed her arm. She screamed; a shrill and loud scream of pure fear. It surprised her. She wasn't the kind of girl who shouted or screamed or made too much noise.

"Hey" Puck said. "_Hey_. It's me. Calm down."

"Don't scare me like that" she snapped.

"Sorry, princess. I should have coughed or something."

He let go of her hand and she stepped away from him. He looked at her suspiciously.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"You keep hanging up the phone when I call."

"My mother was there."  
>"Every time?"<p>

She shrugged.

"Look, I can take a hint. I'm not stupid. If you don't want to see me anymore, just tell me."

The words were at the tip of her tongue. It was the merciful thing to do, to end it now. But she couldn't.

"No" she said, hating how weak she sounded. "No. I'm sorry."

He touched her chin with his fingers, tilting her head up so that she had to look at him. His eyes were big and brown and soft. She had always thought that. He looked tough, but his real nature showed in his eyes.

"You look afraid" he commented. "Are you still freaking out about me grabbing you?"

She shook her head. Her heart beat fast. Yes, she was afraid. How could she not be?

"Richard drove drunk" she said. "It made me feel sick."  
>"He shouldn't do that" Puck said. "What if you go hurt?"<br>"Says the guy with lousy brakes."

He smiled. She traced the fingers of his lips. The world around her was spinning. She needed someone to keep her upright.

"I'm started to get really worried about you" he murmured into her hair.

"I'm not the one going to war."

She stepped away from him again, one steps, two, three. He looked almost hurt. He couldn't see that she was doing him a favor.

"I need to sleep" she said.

He nodded.

"Alright."  
>"I'll call you."<p>

"Sure."  
>She turned her back and walked through the gates. She couldn't hear his footsteps on the gravel which meant that was watching her. It made her want to cry.<p>

…

"What are you going to do?" Frannie asked frantically.

Quinn rolled over to face the wall. She was tired, too tired to get out of bed and too tired to talk about _it _with her sister.

"You can't ignore this" Frannie insisted. "It won't go away."

"Leave me alone" Quinn groaned.

"You should at least tell Richard."

"No."

"Why? He'll be overjoyed. You're the one who wanted to wait until the wedding night, right?"

"I don't want a kid, Frannie."

"Well, you know there are options…"

Quinn said nothing. She thought of these _options_. She thought of abortion, of someone cutting something out of her. How far out of state would she have to travel to get one? She doubted that it was legal anywhere in the South. Was it legal anywhere? She thought of adoption. Of her baby living in a crowded, shabby room with other babies that no one wanted or with someone else as its mother. Unconsciously, she placed a hand on her stomach, as if to protect the small thing inside her.

"Can't I have more time?" she asked, her voice breaking. "Why does he have to know?"

"It's his baby too."  
>Quinn turned her face away. She wondered if he would do the math, that the baby arrived too early to have been conceived in that hotel suit on their wedding night. She hoped that Richard had slept his way through health class.<p>

"I need to figure this out."

"Then do that. Don't ignore it."

"I won't."

"You get married in a week. To a man who loves you and will love your child. Life could be worse."

Quinn nodded, swallowing down the hot tears in her throat.

"I know."

"Then why do you look so sad?"

"I'm not. I'm just tired."

"You can tell me."

"No, actually, I can't."

Quinn closed her eyes and pressed them hard together until she saw red, blurry figures on the insides of her eyelids.

…

"Here's your gift" Santana said, shoving a big envelope into Quinn's hand.

"Your wedding gift" Emma clarified.

"Thank you" Quinn said, moving her plate to open the parcel.

It was their weekly lunch at the disgusting diner. Quinn had a feeling it would be their last. She hated that.

"We thought of giving to you on Friday but you know, it'll probably won't fit with the other things you're getting" Emma explained.  
>"And we're still hoping you'll bail on the whole thing" Santana added off-handedly.<p>

"Thank you" Quinn said again.

In the envelope lay a lot of white papers. She pulled them out. The first one had a small picture of herself copied onto it. It was her school picture from her senior year in college. The headline above it read RESUME in big bold letters.

"What is this?"  
>She read the text under the picture. <em>My name is Quinn Fabray. I graduated from… <em>She stopped reading.

"What is this?" she repeated.

"Your résumé" Santana said.

"We called all your teachers" Emma chimed in. "They all said so wonderful things about you, Quinn. You can read it, it's all in there."  
>"Yeah" Santana sighed. "Are you sure you didn't sleep with them?"<p>

"One said you were the most talented writer she had ever met. That you were destined to work with literature."

Quinn stared at them.

"Why?" she asked. "Why did you do this?"

"Oh, this isn't all we did" Santana smiled. "We sent envelopes like this to every publishing company, library and literature institute we could find."

"Why?"

"If you change your mind" Emma said. "If you want to move to New York or somewhere else and work. Like you wanted, before."  
>"I've never told you that" Quinn whispered. "I've never even told you where I went to college."<br>Emma and Santana exchanged a look.

"Puck told us."

"I'm getting married on Friday" Quinn whispered.

"We know, okay? This was just an experiment. Don't you wanna know if you'd be hirable?"

Quinn didn't want to seem ungrateful. They had put so much effort into this. She felt thankful for that, she really did, They just didn't understand how far away New York and working in a library was right now.

"Thank you" she said. "Thank you so much."

"Don't worry" Santana said. "I put my number in there. If they call, your hubby won't even know."

Quinn managed a smile. She stood up and hugged Emma tight. She didn't hug Santana. That wasn't really their thing.

"Thank you" she said again.

She didn't know if she really meant it.

…

"Do know where we're sitting during dinner?" Santana asked, taking her last sip of milkshake and burping happily.

"No" Quinn said absent-mindedly. "Not really. I can ask Frannie if you want."

"Anywhere will be fine" Emma said.

"Can I toast you? You know clink my fork and stand up and tell them things about you?" Santana asked.

"I'd rather you wouldn't."  
>Santana stuck her tongue out and rolled her eyes. Quinn mustered up enough strength to smile.<p>

"Everyone will be drunk anyway" Santana muttered. "No one would remember what I said."  
>"Not everyone will be drunk" Emma corrected her. "I'm sure they'll be kids there. And pregnant women."<p>

Both Santana and Quinn froze. They're eyes met and then they both looked away. Quinn didn't understand why. Santana couldn't know abouther baby, no one knew. Color rushed to Quinn's cheeks, she blushing out of embarrassment and nerves and fright. Then she realized that she wasn't the only pregnant woman in the world.

"Brittany" she said quietly.

"Who?" Emma asked.

Santana had turned pale. She pointedly looked away. And suddenly Quinn understood the sudden willingness to attend the wedding. She understood the tight fitting dress and why Santana wanted to know where she was sitting during dinner. Brittany.

"My friend" Quinn said, her voice sounded strange. "She's pregnant."  
>"Right" Emma said slowly, looking between the two of her friends.<p>

"Well, I'm not" Santana said, her voice sounded weird too. "I'm going to drink Quinn's daddy out of business."

Emma laughed and excused herself to go to the bathroom. Quinn watched her leave.

"She'll be there?" Santana asked, evidently trying to sound like she didn't care.

"Yes."

"And her husband."

"Yes."

"And her children?"

"I don't know, I'll have to check."  
>"No, don't. I don't want to know."<p>

"Okay."  
>They still looked in different directions. Quinn had the feeling that if she tried to meet Santana's eye, she might get punched.<p>

"I haven't seen her in weeks" Santana admitted in a flat voice. "She never calls and I obviously I can't call her."

"I'm sorry" Quinn whispered.

"I just thought, if I got to see her again... And maybe talk to her, maybe she'd…"

Santana's voice trailed off. Quinn felt tears burn in her throat again. Not for herself this time, for her friend. Santana, who was hopelessly in love with someone, who was in love with someone else.

"It might not be that easy."

"I know" Santana said quietly. "I won't even be able to bring it up. I can't ever do anything to upset her."

"I'm sorry, San."

"I just want to see her again."

"I get it."

"Okay."  
>Quinn spotted Emma coming back to the table. She bent down to pick up her wallet from her bag and discreetly wiped away the tears now running down her cheeks. Damn hormones.<p>

…

"What are you waiting for?" Frannie asked. "Why don't you just tell him."

"I don't want to."

It was the day before the wedding and she had forced Frannie to steal the wedding dress out of their mother's study so that Quinn could be sure that it still fit. As her sister did up all the buttons, Quinn stared at herself. She looked gaunt, she realized. Sickly even. Maybe she needed more vegetables.

"He must have known that this was a possibility when you had sex."

"Frannie, _please_."

Her sister did up the last button. The dress still fit. Of course. The baby inside her was still so, so tiny.

"You really look beautiful in this" Frannie said.

"Do I?"  
>"Of course you do."<p>

"I think I look like a fly, caught in spider's web."  
>Frannie laughed.<p>

"A very pretty fly then."  
>"I guess."<br>"If you wanted something else, you should have said so."

"I didn't think that it really mattered. I never really thought this day would come, not really."

Frannie sighed and started to unbutton again.

"No one's holding a knife to your throat, darling, you can still change your mind."

"I'm having a baby. It's too late to back out."

"Okay, I see your point. But Richard is a good man. He won't cheat on you. He'll massage your feet and buy you a nice stroller. It'll be fine."

"Okay."

She stepped out of the dress and rehung it on its hanger. She thought of the deal she and Puck had made, ages ago. This night, the 13th of April would be their last night. Back then, she had said it lightly, probably not understanding that months would pass and April would actually come. _Why had she slept with him_? If she hadn't, she could have run away now, run to New York and sent a postcard back with some lousy explanation. She was trapped here now. His kid was trapping her. _He_ was trapping her.

"You should get your beauty sleep" Franne said.

"I just need some fresh air first" Quinn replied, pulling on a cardigan and heading for the door.

"Quinn?"  
>"Yes."<p>

"It'll be fine, I promise."

"Thank you."

…

He was waiting by the gate, just like they had agreed. She took in his appearance, his torn, faded jeans and green t-shirt with a hole just under the collar. He hadn't dressed up and neither had she. It felt unnecessary.

"Hey" she whispered.

All the anger she had felt towards him vanished. She felt like crying and smiling at the same time. She thought of the time he had scared her half to death, right here, ages ago. How much she had changed since then and how much he had stayed the same.

"I saw you though the window" he said quietly. "I saw you trying on your dress."

She could have made some snide remark about who was ogling who, but she didn't.

"Oh."

"You looked nice."

"I'm not so sure."

"About what?"  
>"Anything."<p>

He began to walk away from the house and she followed, like a dog.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Scared."  
>"Don't you mean nervous?"<p>

"No."  
>She closed her eyes and walked blindly next to him. She felt like she had nothing to fear in that moment. He would catch her if she fell. <em>Should she tell him? What would happen if she did? What would happen to him? To her? To the baby?<em>

"How are you feeling?" she asked in return.

"Fine."

He looked straight ahead and showed no emotion when he said it.

"Santana's decided to sell her house and go to New York" he said.

"Really? When did she tell you?"  
>"Today."<p>

"We're all leaving" she said.

"Yes" he confirmed. "We're all leaving.

_And not one of us wants to. Not really._

"Can we just stop walking?" she asked, suddenly feeling dizzy.

He halted and she opened her eyes a fraction. She slid her hands under his shirt and felt his scar below his shoulder, his bullet wound. He had never told her about how he got it and now it was too late.

"Please be safe" she whispered. "Please take care of yourself."

"I will" he promised.

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, and this time it was actually their last kiss. She couldn't tell him about the baby. It was too big of a risk. For him and for her both.

"I don't leave until May" he said.

"We're moving the day after the wedding. All our stuff is already in Dallas."

"Right. Of course."

She pressed her forehead against his. She could feel the smell of his sweat on her own skin. Once again, she pressed her lips against his.

"Bye" she whispered.

"Bye" he echoed.

She watched him walk off. And then she headed back. This time she had to keep her eyes open, this time no one would catch her if she fell.

…

She curled up in her bed, tucking her knees up under chin and released all tears. She let go of all the restrains. She hated herself and Puck and Richard and she didn't hate anyone. For once in her life, she was being unselfish. She was doing what was best for the child and what was best for Puck. She should be proud but right now, it hurt too much. She mourned her old life, her freedom, this house. She mourned being careless (even though she had never really been able to be completely so). She mourned sleeping late and watching the workers and drinking lemonade on the porch. She mourned Emma and Santana, like they had died. She mourned Frannie and Jamie and Laura. And she mourned Puck. The grief that hit her was so powerful that she had to gasp for air.

…

Morning came and even though Quinn had slept mere hours, she jumped out of bed. She slipped into the role of bride much easily then she had expected. Maybe because it was easier to pretend to be happy then to be sad or worried. She took a shower and let her Grace rub her hair dry with a towel. Quinn closed her eyes and wondered if this was the last time Grace would ever do that. There were so many _last _these days.

"How are you feeling?" Grace asked.

"I don't know."

"You look like you lost weight. You worry too much."

"I know. I'm working on it."

"It's not healthy."

"I know, Grace."

Quinn opened her eyes and met her maid's eyes in the mirror. She got a strange feeling that Grace knew. About the baby. About Puck. About everything.

"What if you don't take care in Dallas?" Grace asked. "No one will be there."

"Richard will."  
>Grace made some kind of huffing noise. It made Quinn smile.<p>

"I'm not leaving forever. I'll be back. Then you'll stuff me full of chicken soup and fried egg whites. Just like old times."

Grace didn't respond. She brushed out Quinn's hair with a patience that no one else could compete with. Every stroke was deliberate and slow and careful.

"Will you miss me when I leave, Grace?"  
>"Of course I will, Miss Quinn."<p>

There is was, plain and simple. Quinn wished she had asked Puck that question. No, she wasn't going to think about him anymore. She had killed him in her mind and moved on. He didn't exist.

"I going to miss you too."

"Your new maid will be adequate I'm sure."

"Well, you're better than just _adequate_."

Grace smiled, almost shyly. Quinn realized she had yet to mourn losing Grace. The only adult who seemed to really love her; even though she was the who got paid to do it.

"Now; how do you want it? Up or down?"

Quinn stared at herself.

"You decide" she said.

"No, it's not up to me."

"I want you to."

"Up, then. It goes better with the dress."

Quinn nodded. Just like that she had made Grace a part of her wedding. It felt like the best decision she had made during this entire process.

…

The church hummed with voices. She stood outside the heavy doors and tried to breathe. Her father smoked a cigarette, maybe to calm his nerves. He didn't offer her one this time.

"Daddy" Quinn whispered. "Daddy, I don't want to do this."

Russell mumbled something she couldn't hear. Panic hit her like a slap to the face. _What the hell was she doing? _

"Daddy, I think all of this is a mistake" she tried.

"It's just cold feet" he responded.

"I don't love him, daddy."

He sighed deeply.

"Stop living in some stupid fairy tale, Quinn" he told her sharply. "I told your mother that we shouldn't have let you read all those books. They messed up your mind."

"But…"

"Do you think Carlton loved Frannie when they got married? Of course not. He needed a job and a place to live."  
>"She loves him" Quinn argued. "She loved him and she still loves him."<p>

"Well, you're the same, you two. There's no such thing as true love, but there's honor and family values and keeping your head up."

"Don't you love mama?"

Russell didn't answer. She wanted to make him. She wanted to pound his chest until he told her. Wasn't she the only one who couldn't love? Could no one? Was it all some kind of conspiracy?

"There's our queue" he said as the music began to play.

She took his arm and he opened the door. Every head turned to stare at her. Her father led her along the aisle, passed smiling faces and cameras, passed friends and family and people she didn't know. She raised her gaze and saw Richard standing by the altar. He looked nervous too.

"Hold it together" her father muttered.

So she did.

…

Quinn repeated after the reverend. All her own names and all of Richard's. She said _I do _in a frail way that made people's eyes water. She let Richard lift up her veil and kiss her in front of hundreds of people. She smiled and smiled as he took her arm and led her back down the aisle again. Perhaps people cheered, she couldn't hear, her ears had shut off. People threw rice at her just as the sun break through the clouds and she posed for pictures with her family and with his. It was over within the hour. All that work for an hour doing what a monkey could have done.

"I can't believe we're finally married" Richard whispered in her ear as they left for the reception.

"Me neither" she said.

She placed a hand on her stomach and thought that this was what was best for _it. _And in the end, that was all that mattered.


	15. who will promise never to part

He was rougher than she had expected. Maybe he had to compensate for her being passive. She closed her eyes as he undressed her in the expensive hotel suit his father had paid for. Someone had sprinkled rose petals on the bed, they stuck to her clammy skin like magnets. Someone had also placed a big bottle of champagne in the room. Richard had drunk most of it, she was completely sober.

"Tell me that you love me" he panted. "You never do. Tell me."  
>"I love you" she lied.<p>

"Do you mean it?"  
>No.<p>

"Yes."  
>"Do you promise?"<br>"Yes."

He smiled, like those simply words ensured their endless love. Like a person couldn't pretend or lie. She almost despised him for being so naïve. She despised herself too. For being a coward and weak and not ending the farce when she had the chance. She felt nothing as he touched her and nothing when he asked her to touch him. She was a robot on her wedding night, an angry and scared robot. Life was truly no romantic novel, she was no Jane Eyre or Elisabeth Bennet and Richard was no Mr. Darcy. Her father was right. She had lived in this fantasy world too long and now she was caught in a nightmare.

"Why are you crying?" Richard breathed.

"It hurts."

"I know. It does, the first time."

She nodded, like it was physical pain that she meant.

…

The house in Dallas looked different this time. Emptier and more crowded at the same time. Boxes lined the walls, waiting to be unpacked by a housewife. Richard nailed ugly paintings to the walls and changed the light bulbs. His new maid, no, their new maid, Cathryn, made some kind of stew. His old one hadn't wanted to move so they had "inherited" Cathryn from the house's previous owner. Like she came with the house, like the stove or the wall paper.

"This is our _home_" Richard kept repeating.

Cathryn kept stirring that stew and Quinn stared into nothingness. She wanted to go home. She almost felt sick thinking about home.

"Dinner is ready, Miss Quinn" Cathryn said.

"I'm not hungry."

"Come on, Quinn, it's our first meal together" Richard insisted.

She took her seat at the kitchen table and picked up the new fork and drank water out of an old glass. Cathryn filled her plate and then moved out of their way. Quinn stared into the stew, into the brown sauce filled with chicken or beef or something else. She couldn't even make herself take one bite.

"Can't you at least try to smile?" he asked tiredly.

She met his eyes. None of this was his fault. It was all hers. She shouldn't take it out on him.

"I'm eating."

"Ask me how my day was."  
>"How was your day?" she asked obediently.<p>

"I got to see my new office, huge windows, my own secretary and shredder."

"Your own shredder. Wow."

He ignored her sarcasm. She admired him for not snapping at her. He was clearly a better person than she was.

"The board took me out to lunch. I had something Mexican."

She nodded and took another gulp of water.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Fine."

"What did you do?"  
>"I took a walk" she lied. "I took a walk to see the surroundings."<br>She hoped that Cathryn wasn't listening; the maid knew that Quinn had spent all day on the couch.

"You should be careful" Richard reprimanded her. "This isn't some small town, this is Dallas. You could have been run over or kidnapped or…"

"So I should just stay inside all day?"

"No, that's what your car is for."

"I have to drive everywhere?"

He shrugged. She shrugged back. There was no point in fighting about this. It wasn't like she was dying to take long walks anyway. _Pick your battles_ or whatever Rachel used to say.

"I thought" Quinn began "maybe we could go home this weekend. I feel like we didn't get a chance to say goodbye properly."  
>"Not this weekend" Richard said. "We just got here. And Quinn, this is our home now."<br>She scowled like a thirteen year old with a curfew.

"Eat your stew" he told her.

"I'm not hungry."

He sighed loudly and she couldn't blame him.

…

"Is there something wrong with my cooking, Ma'am?" Cathryn asked, looking down at her apron.

It was morning and Quinn couldn't make herself eat breakfast. Every step she took made her want to throw up. She sat on lounge chair in the backyard instead of packing up boxes.

"No" Quinn said quickly. "No. I'm sure it's fine."

Cathryn was younger than Grace, maybe just a few years older than Quinn. She was pretty and slender and Quinn wondered if she was married, if she had kids. She wondered if it was rude to ask.

"You should really eat something. When I had my baby boy, I couldn't eat anything but crackers for three weeks, maybe you could try that. At least it's something."

"I'm not pregnant" Quinn snapped.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I just thought… I'm sorry."

Cathryn looked away and Quinn felt shame in every fiber of her body.

"No, I'm sorry. I am pregnant. He just doesn't know yet" she said.

"Mr. Richard."

"Yes."

"Do you want me to run out and get you some crackers? It's better than eating nothing."

"Yes, please" Quinn sighed, feeling endlessly thankful because getting out this chair would have been impossible.

"I'll be back soon."

"Cathryn?"  
>"Yes."<p>

"How old is your son?"

"He's three, Ma'am."

"You must have been so young."

"Nineteen."

"What did you feel?"

"Sick, Ma'am."

"Yes, well, apart from that. Did you feel happy?"

Cathryn opened her mouth to answer, looking a bit confused.

"You don't have to answer" Quinn said. "I'm sorry for being intrusive."

"It's fine, Ma'am. I'll buy those crackers for you, yes?"

"Yes please."

Quinn closed her eyes as Cathryn left. She fell asleep within a minute and woke up with a sun burn all over her usually so pale skin. It did not make her feel better.

…

"Hello?"

"Santana, it's Quinn."  
>"The long lost bride. What a surprise."<p>

Quinn closed the study door behind her and lowered her voice as she spoke into the telephone. It was Saturday and Richard began to unpack the boxes containing all their things. The boxes she should have unpacked during the week but not mustered enough power to even begin with.

"How are you?"  
>"Perfect, as always. What about you? How's married life?"<p>

"Don't make me answer that, please."

"Is the sex bad?"  
>"Shut up."<br>She could hear Santana sniggering on the other end of the line.

"God, that wedding was dull. No offense. No one even got drunk. They all just sat there and talked about _stock _and God knows what."

Quinn smiled.

"I thought you knew how rich people acted, San."

"I must have forgotten."

Quinn bit her lip.

"Did you talk to her?"  
>Santana waited ten seconds to answer. Quinn let her take her time. It was never easy for Santana to talk about Brittany.<p>

"Yes."

"What did she say?"  
>"That she had missed me."<br>"What did you say?"

"I can't remember."

"Did you meet her husband?"

"Yes. Kevin. Too short for her."  
>"I've always thought so."<p>

"Hey, Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you do when you love someone too much to let them go?"

Quinn closed her eyes. She heard Richard sorting china into the cabinet downstairs. She heard the shower drip in the bathroom. She heard her own breathing.

"I don't know."

"No" Santana agreed. "Me neither."

…

The crackers made everything better. If she ate two in the morning while she felt sick, she could eat lunch like normal human being. The strength came back to her as her body again received nutrition. She started unpacking the boxes, folding clothes and filling vases with water and storing the nice china.

With the strength returning, so did her mind. There was a big flaw in her plan, a flaw she had always known but chosen to ignore. The thing was that she herself was fair skinned with golden blond hair and hazel eyes. The thing was that Richard had mousy brown hair and gray eyes. The face was that Puck had brown eyes and blackish hair and skin that was dark. That was the great, big flaw of course. If the baby turned out to resemble his or her father, this whole charade was pointless. Quinn knew that, she wasn't stupid, she just had no better option.

"You have to tell him" Frannie kept telling her over the phone.

Quinn kept agreeing in vague terms. Not yet. It was only a week since she "got pregnant".

"He'll get upset if he finds out that you've been keeping it a secret for so long."

Quinn agreed again, told her sister that she was probably right, that he deserved to know. It was so much easier to lie over the phone.

"I'm worried about you" Frannie said. "Grace is too, I can tell."

"I'm fine."

"You're coming home soon, right? The family portrait thing, it's in two weeks."

"Yes, we'll be there."

"Jamie misses you."

"I'm sure he doesn't."

"He goes around the house, looking for you."  
>Quinn didn't answer. She felt like if she opened her mouth she would cry and she really didn't want to do that.<p>

…

"It'll be fun" Richard sighed for the eighth time.

"Then you go" Quinn bit back.

"Look; it's my colleagues' wives. They all hang out together on Thursdays. Why can't you just go?"

"I don't want to."

The crackers hadn't helped much today. She was feeling nauseous and bloated and feverish. There was nothing she wanted to do less than spend time with people she didn't know. She wished that Grace could braid her hair and cook her tea and stroke her forehead.

"It's just a few hours. God, Quinn, don't be so selfish."

Impulsively she slapped his face. He opened his mouth, completely shocked. She stepped away from him, already feeling bad about hitting him. She was a well-raised girl, not a fighter.

"I'm sorry" she said, not sounding sincere at all.

"Why did you do that?"  
>"Stop telling me that I'm selfish. I moved here for you. I moved away from everything for you. How can that be selfish?"<br>Richard's face turned red, she felt herself grow paler. They didn't even have face coloring in common.

"I work all day. Why can't you just drink wine with a few ladies? Why is that such a big deal for you?"

"Don't try to shame me for not working. I want to work, remember, we've fought about this before."  
>Richard sighed deep. She hated him sighing. She wasn't some disobedient child.<p>

"A marriage is about giving and taking…" he began.

"Stop being a cliché."  
>"Stop being a bitch."<p>

She stared at him. At his face and his hands curled into fists and at his pants that were bit tight and at his face again. For the first time she felt something for him, for real, no apathy any more. In this moment, she hated him.

"By the way, I'm pregnant" she said harshly, not giving him the pleasure of getting this _great _news in a better way.

"What?"

Quinn turned her back on him and went into the bathroom. She locked the door behind her and sat on the toilet for almost an hour, dreading Richard's kisses and hugs and understanding looks. Her plan had more flaws, she realized. She despised this man. That was a big miscalculation.

…

"Quinn" he said through the door.

She didn't answer. She crossed her arms and kept quiet.

"Quinn, is that true? How can you be sure?"

"I just know" she snapped.

"Alright" he said calmly.

"A woman just knows" she said and thereby turned into a cliché as well.

"That's wonderful news, baby. Come out so I can kiss you."

"I'm still mad."

"Don't be."  
>"I won't be less angry because you ask me to."<p>

He sighed deeply again and her anger rose. God, they were the worst couple in world.

"You don't have to go with the wives" he tried.

"I don't _have to_. Gee, thanks."  
>She knew she was being impossible. She knew it and didn't give a damn. He was being impossible too, impossibly stupid.<p>

"We're going to be parents, Quinn. Grow up."

She turned on the faucet and let it run over the sound of his voice. She washed her face, once, twice, three times. She stared at herself in the mirror.

"We've been married two weeks and I already hate him" she whispered to her reflection.

He knocked at the door, loudly, too loud. The running water didn't drown out the noise.

"Stop being a child" he shouted at her.

"Stop making me hate you" she whispered back.

…

"I slapped his face."

"Good."

"Santana, that's not good."

"I'm sure you were provoked."  
>"Kind of."<br>"Then, good."

"If he had slapped me, it wouldn't have been okay."  
>"Quinn, stop analyzing it. Move the fuck on."<p>

"Ouch."  
>Quinn had finally left the bathroom. Richard had moped around for a while before cuddling up to her on the couch and kissing her and telling her how excited he was about the baby. She had listened the TV over his babbling and when he fell asleep, she went to call Santana.<p>

"Why did you slap him?"  
>"He called me selfish."<br>"Well, that's not fair. You moved away for his sake."  
>"That's what I said."<br>"Good."

"How's home?" Quinn asked.

"Like always."  
>"When are you leaving?"<p>

"When someone buys my fucking house."

None of them said anything.

"He doesn't ask about you, if you were wondering. Just like you don't ask about him."

"Right."

"He's leaving in the middle of May. You know that, right?"  
>"Yes."<br>"Just checking."  
>Santana yawned. Quinn checked the time. It was half past eleven. It was cruel keeping Santana up so late.<p>

"Do you regret it?" Santana asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Him."  
>"I don't want to talk about it."<br>"Why not?"

"I moved on."

"Really?"  
>"I'm trying, anyway. He's dead, in my mind, he's dead."<p>

Santana said nothing. Quinn held her breath.

"It's probably for the best" Santana said finally.

"Yes."  
>"Good night, Q."<br>"Yeah, good night."

…

Richard took her out to buy a stroller. Quinn tried to her tell him that it was too soon but he wouldn't listen. He went on and on about how happy his mother would be, how his life was turning out just like wanted. She almost wanted to slap him again.

"We can't tell our families yet" she said sternly.

"Why not?"  
>"It's too soon."<p>

"Why?"  
>"What if something goes wrong?"<br>"It won't."

"Richard, I'm serious."

He sighed (ugh) but then leaned in and kissed the top of her head.

"Whatever you say, darling."

"We're going to see them weekend, you remember, right? My mother wants to take that stupid family portrait."

"It's not stupid. I think it's a really nice idea."

Quinn rolled her eyes at her ground. She dreaded and longed to go home. To hug Frannie and Jamie's forehead and sleep in her own bed again. She longed for really good food (nothing against Cathryn but she wasn't as good of a cook as Grace) and fresh air. But she dreaded coming home too. _He _was there. He, who was dead to her when she was so far away. If she went home, he might come alive again.

"We'll drive down on Friday afternoon" Richard said. "And back again on Sunday."

She nodded.

"Are you homesick?" he asked.

"I don't know" she said honestly.

"I feel like, yes, I miss my family" he began. "But this is my place on earth."  
>He picked the most expensive stroller of the bunch. She wondered about what would happen to it if he found out about who the baby's daddy was. Would he break it nice stroller? All this money for nothing.<p>

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"Guess."

He kissed her and took her hand and she wished that she didn't loathe him.

…

"Please" he begged.

"I'm tired."  
>"You're always tired."<br>"I'm pregnant."

His hands slipped under her nightgown and pushed them away. She had slept with him once; that was enough. That time it had been necessary.

"We're married now" Richard whispered into her neck.

"So?"

"_Quinn_."

"I don't want to. I'm pregnant and feel swollen and sick all the time. Please don't make me mad."

He sighed (could he ever stop sighing at her?) and rolled over on his back. She felt relieved. She sent a thank you to the baby, you could never argue with a pregnant woman.

"You're not happy about this baby, are you?" he said

She wanted to slap him again; no, punch him. She covered her belly with her hand.

"You don't get it" she told him because he really didn't.

"You always said that you didn't want kids."

"Be quiet."

"Are you regretting this baby?"

Why was he tormenting her with all these questions? Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

"It's my baby" she mumbled. "I could never regret it."

"It's my baby too."

He gently moved her hand away from her stomach and placed his own there. It felt wrong but she let him caress her skin. She let him believe.

"I just wish…" she began.

"What?"

"I just wish it had better timing."

"It?"

"The baby?"  
>"Do you think it's a boy or a girl?" he wondered, ignoring her remark about timing.<p>

"I don't know" she said, which was true because she hadn't even really thought about it.

"I think it's a girl" Richard whispered. "A baby girl."

Quinn felt like crying again. She shifted so that his hand slid off her tummy.

…

"I told him" she told Frannie.

"That's great!"

"We bought a stroller."

"Good!"

"He thinks it's a girl."

"What do you think?"

"I want to go home."

…

The house looked just like it had three weeks ago. It was still big and white and beautiful. The air still tasted the same, and the wind smelt the same. Frannie's arms were still as soft and Jamie's face was covered in jam as usual. It was night, too late for him to be up but Quinn felt thankful. She lifted him into the air until he squealed. He felt heavier than he had just three weeks ago but then again, so did she.

"Welcome home" Russell said, shaking Richard's hand.

"I booked the photographer for noon" her mother informed them.

Quinn nodded, not paying attention. It felt so good to be back. She felt safe here.

"Let's get to bed" her father said. "We all need to look our best in the morning."

"I made the guestroom ready for you two" Judy informed them.

Quinn frowned. She wanted to sleep in her own bed, with her own sheets and stuffed animals and window that let the sun in. She hadn't come home to sleep in the guest room.

"But, what about my room?" she asked.

"You're married now, sweetie" Judy winked. "I'm not going to stop you from sharing a bed anymore."

Richard took their bag and they entered the house. The guestroom was stuffed with old furniture that no one really wanted in their own room. It had only one window with thick curtains and facing east. It was the room that aunts and uncles had slept in. Not her. This was as much her home as the house in Dallas.

…

"What did he say?"

"Nothing at first. I locked myself in the bathroom" Quinn confessed.

Frannie sniggered. Laura had woken up in the middle of the night, waking Frannie and giving Quinn a reason to get out of bed. She had slept 14 hours every night for the past week but here it was impossible.

"Mature" her sister commented.

"I know."

"Why did you do that?"

"We had a fight."

"Already? What about the honeymoon faze?"

"Guess we skipped that."

Frannie burped the baby and then put her back in her crib.

"Do you remember that we talked about re-doing your room into a nursery?" she asked carefully.

"Yes" Quinn said.

"I thought, for Laura, when she's older…"

"Yes" Quinn said again.

"You're okay with that?"

"It's not my room anymore, is it? This is isn't my home."

"Of course it is. It will always be your home."

Quinn stroked her niece's tiny face. At five months, she was just a little baby, unable to survive without her mother. The thought made Quinn want to cry.

"Do want to know something crazy?" she asked her sister.

Frannie nodded.

"I want this baby; my baby. It's not his or her fault that it was born into this world or this marriage or whatever. It's just a tiny, defenseless little baby."

Frannie smiled.

"I never thought I'd hear you say that."  
>"Me neither."<p>

"It'll be fine, Quinn. Once your child is born, other things will stop to matter – or matter as much. The most important thing is what is best for your kids."

"I know" Quinn sighed. "I know. That's why you stay with the man who you can't trust. That's why I married a man I never loved. And that's why…"

"Why what?"  
>"Nothing. I just have to stop being <em>selfish<em>."

The word still stung after Richard had thrown it in her face. Frannie's hand was warm as it found Quinn's.

"You can be happy about this" she said. "Even if it isn't ideal or anything. You can still be happy."

…

Quinn sat down next to Frannie on one of three chairs. Judy sat on the other side of her. Their husbands stood behind them.

"How about the father takes the little boy?" the photographer suggested. "It's very cluttered around the mother."

"I don't think so" Carlton said.

He made no movement towards his son. The photographer frowned and mumbled something to himself.

"I'll hold him" Quinn offered. "He can sit on my lap."

"No" Judy said sharply. "It will be confusing. In thirty years when your kids look at this picture they won't be able to make out who's baby it is."

"Mama…"

"She's right" Richard agreed.

"It's fine, Quinn. Jamie can still on feet, right, darling?"

Jamie, in his new shirt and ironed slacks, obediently sat down on his mother's shoes. Judy had water combed his hair. He looked like a miniature version of his father. Quinn bent down to squeeze his shoulder and was met by a look of confusion. Thank god. He was still too young to realize that his father didn't love him.

"Sit up straight, Quinn" Judy snapped and Quinn got a flashback from some time she couldn't really remember.

"And smile!" the photographer gushed.

And Quinn did smile. She stared in the camera's eye and smiled and smiled and didn't blink. Laura fussed in Frannie's lap and Richard's hand on her shoulder slackened, but she kept smiling.

"Beautiful" the photographer said, taking one last shot. "Absolutely perfect. Such a handsome family."

"Are we done?" Russell asked, already reaching for the beer bottles he had hid behind the couch.

He handed one each to Carlton and Richard. Laura had started to cry and had thrown up all over Frannie's brand new dress. Grace was there within seconds with a wet towel and soothing words. Neither of the men moved. Judy was too busy talking angles with the photographer. And then Quinn realized that she had had a romanticized picture of her family and of this house. People were assholes here too.

"I need some air" she mumbled.

…

She watched the workers from the porch. She wondered if he still worked here. She wondered if he had cut his hair already. She wondered if he was scared.

No, she didn't wonder. She didn't care anymore. There was no point in caring.

She stared at Richard's car for some time. She stared at her hands, at the wedding ring on her finger. She stared at her shoes, the same she had worn to the wedding. They were still white as snow, perfect and intact. She was neither.

And she heard his voice. His laugh. And she turned her head – and there he was. He hadn't shaved his hair off, it was still black and thick on his head. One of Grace's boys walked beside him. They shared a sandwich. Quinn wondered which one of them who had forgotten their lunch. She sat on the porch steps and watched them talk at the front gates. He looked fine, she decided. Not that she cared.

And then Grace's son walked off, waving and calling something at Puck. And then he was alone. He finished his sandwich and started whistling. And she couldn't help herself. She just couldn't stop caring.

"Hello" she said, sounding like child.

He turned to look at her. The whistling stopped. His mouth opened and then closed.

"What are you doing here?" Puck asked.

"I live here" she said, smiling and smiling and she was so happy to see him.

And then guilt hit her. How could she not have told him about the baby? She had made the wrong decision, hadn't given him a choice. She had thought that she had been unselfish, keeping him out of it, but no, he deserved to know.

"I have to tell you something" she said hurriedly, like the words couldn't wait to escape her lips.

"Me too" he said. "I have to tell you something too."

She nodded, swallowing, her heart beating hard.

"Okay. You go first."

He looked almost as nervous as she did. Had someone died? The thought struck her and made her want to throw up. She didn't want bad news. She couldn't take bad news.

"Don't freak out" he said calmly. "Let me explain. Don't get scared and run off."

She nodded. He licked his lips. She licked hers. The wind blew a strand of hair into her eyes but she didn't move it, scared to move.

"I'm leaving in two weeks, I know that. But… It's war, you know. I already got shot once. You know."

"No" she said. "I don't. I've never been to war."

"There is a risk that I won't come back" he said nonchalantly.

She closed her eyes to gather strength.

"I keep looking for you everywhere, even though I know you've moved. I keep seeing you, here or at the store or anywhere. And I run towards you and it's someone else or just air, just my mind fucking with me" he told her slowly. "It's making me crazy."

"It's something you some adjusting to…"

"No. It's not. Every time I realize that you're still in Dallas, still with _him…_ Every time, it hurts like hell."

She nodded.

"I don't want you to be with him. I don't want to go away. Not really" he said, his voice almost hoarse.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that… I think I love you. And it kills me that I fucked that up and you already married someone else."

Quinn stared at him. At his brown eyes, the eyes that their baby was going to inherit. Actually, she hoped that their baby would inherit everything for him. He was better than her in every way. Stronger, braver.

"You don't have to say anything" he told her slowly. "I know you have issues with these kinds of feelings and…"

She took a step forward and kissed him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him and he kissed her back. And yes, she felt hope, because he loved her and…

"What the hell."

Carlton's words were flat and loud. She turned and saw her brother in law and her husband and she thought that she might die.

…

She couldn't remember how she had gotten in the car, Richard's car. Her had mind shut off due to shock. Richard's fingers were white as he clenched the steering wheel hard. She opened her mouth to say something, but he was faster.

"Did you do it to punish me?" he asked, his voice empty of emotion.

"No, of course not."

"Because of the baby? Because I made you pregnant and you didn't want kids?"

"No, Richard, it's not like that."

"What's it like then?"  
>She opened her mouth but didn't know where to begin. Her first impulse was to deny everything, but how could she? He had caught her. There was nothing she could say that would take that image away from him.<p>

"Or has it been going on longer?" he pressed on. "Some kind of rebellious affair with a mixed race poor worker?"

"Richard."

"I don't get it. I did everything for you. I… I bought you a ring and… I loved you. And you do this to me?"

She thought that he was wrong. He didn't love her, just like she didn't love him, but that was beside the point. He was not the villain here; she was.

"I'm sorry" she said, honestly. "I messed up, I'm sorry, I really am. I should have dealt with it ages ago but…"  
>"<em>Ages ago<em>?" Richard barked. "How long has this been going on?"  
>He was speeding, she could feel beer on his breath. How much had he had time to drink? One beer? Two?<p>

"Too long" she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"When?" he asked.

And maybe she owed him the truth.

"Almost a year."

"A year?" he almost shouted, she flinched. "That's before we got engaged, before… before anything."

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" he asked.

The fields flashed by the windows too fast for her to register them. She felt sick. She wanted to get out of this car. Where were they even going? This road led to nothing, it was just big, dusty thoroughfare that headed for empty plains.

"I don't know."

"If it's not because you resent me and not to rebel, what can have driven you to do it? For fuck's sake, Quinn, he's black."

"Why does that matter?" she snapped back instinctively.

His hand made contact with her cheek too fast for her to really feel pain. She pressed her hands to her burning cheek. She had never been slapped before.

"If this gets out, I'll be ridiculed" he yelled. "That you fucked me over with a black Jew."

"Richard…" she pleaded, feeling the tears build up in her throat.

He stayed quiet for almost a minute. A car had to swerve to avoid colliding with them, he was driving on the wrong side of the road. For the first time, she felt scared.

"Is the baby his?"

His voice was icy cold now. The fear inside her increased. His face was white and showed no feelings.

"Richard, please stop the car. Please."

"Answer me."

"Please" she begged even though she had no right.

"I need you to say it" he spat at her. "I need you to say it now."

"_Please_."

"Say it."

"It's not yours."

Richard shouted something she couldn't hear because she was shouting too. There was a car speeding against them, another car that wasn't planning on swerving. Richard finally noticed it and spun the steering wheel around but they were going too fast and the tires screamed against the gravel road. And everything went black.


	16. go melt back into the night

"Hello? Jesus. Hey? Can you hear me?"

Quinn opened her eyes. She couldn't see anything, everything around her was hazy and swayed before her eyes.

"Thank god" the voice said again. "Thank god you're okay. I'll get you out, okay?"

She shut her eyes again. Her head hurt. It hurt so much it made her sick.

"No, don't fall asleep" the voice kept on. "You need to stay awake. I think you banged your head and my father in law's a doctor and he said that you shouldn't let people with head injuries fall asleep."

She wished that the voice would shut up. Blood pulsed loudly in her ears. Someone grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up. She let out a strangled sound of pain but the air was clearer now.

"I'll drive you to the hospital" the voice said. "I'm sorry. Your car was driving in the middle of the road. I had nowhere to go. I'm sorry."

"My head hurts" she mumbled in response.

"Where did the driver go? The man? He ran away as I pulled over. Do you think he's okay?"

"I need to lie down."

"You will. In a minute, I promise."

"I'm going to be sick" she warned in a weak voice.

"You'll be fine."  
>She heard the sound of car door opening and felt how she was placed in the backseat. The smell of leather was oddly comforting. Her arm hurt too, she realized. Almost as bad as her head.<p>

"Should I look for your friend?" the voice asked.

"No" she said. "Please. Let's just go."

"Okay. Stay awake, 'kay?"

"Yes" she lied and faded away into nothingness within seconds.

…

"Do you know her?" a second voice asked.

"No" the first voice said. "They hit almost hit me. Crashed into a tree. I don't know her."

"Hello? Darling? What's your name?"  
>Quinn stared up into the blinding lights above her. She saw the blurry figure of a nurse, staring down at her.<p>

"Quinn" she whispered.

"They were driving in the middle of the road" the first voice said. "I had no way to go."

"Quinn? How are you feeling?" the nurse asked, ignoring the man, yes it was a man, who had driven Quinn here.

"My head hurts. And my arm."

"Alright, sweetheart. We'll get you something for the pain. Do you have any allergies?"

"No."

"Any diseases in the family?"

"No."

"I'm sorry" the man said again. "I'm really sorry."

Quinn tried to nod but it made the pain double. She squeezed her eyes tight shut.

"Any other medical history?" the nurse asked her.

She was about to say no again. The word lingered on her tongue before she realized, before she remembered.

"I'm pregnant" she whispered.

"Oh my god" the man breathed. "I'm sorry."

"Mister, you'll have to leave us now" the nurse said, sounding harsh now.

Quinn wanted to thank the stranger who had perhaps saved her life. Richard had bolted. This man hadn't.

"Can someone find Elisabeth?" the nurse called out. "She's pregnant. This one's pregnant."

"Can I still have something for the pain?" Quinn whispered hoarsely

"I don't think so, darling" the nurse said, her voice soft like honey.

…

They wouldn't let her fall asleep. Someone x-rayed her arm, it was broken just below the elbow. Someone force fed her an apple, she couldn't feel the taste. She got an IV filled with something that didn't help with the pain. And for the first time, Quinn was sick of this baby, the one who kept her from the morphine or whatever they gave you a shot of these days. These feelings faded quickly when she realized that the nurses were worrying.

"How many weeks along are you?" Nurse Anne asked, the one who had helped her from the beginning.

"I don't know" she mumbled back. "Eight. Or nine."

"Who's your doctor?"

"I don't have one. I haven't had the checkup. I just…"

Someone put on gloves and separated her legs and pressed up finger inside her to feel her cervix.

"Well, at least you were pregnant" Anne said.

"_Were_?"

"Week nine is a critical week… We'll just have to wait and see."

Quinn covered her stomach with both her hands, sheltering it from the harsh words.

"My baby is fine" she said stubbornly just as hot tears dripped down her face.

"We'll monitor you closely" Anne promised.

Quinn turned her face away.

"Is there anyone you want me to call?" another nurse asked. "Your parents?"

Quinn nodded.

"Yes, please."

"And, your husband is here now, Quinn" Anne said slowly. "He's a big banged up, but nothing bad. He must have panicked when you crashed otherwise people don't leave like that."

Quinn said nothing. She prayed silently. She prayed for the baby, her daughter or son, who was fighting for its life inside her. Her pain no longer mattered. She would go through weeks with this headache for the baby.

"Do you want him to come here and see you?" Anne asked.

"No" Quinn said.

No one questioned her.

…

Hours passed. Day turned into evening. And her parents didn't come. No one commented about it. Anne just asked if Quinn wanted her to call them again. Quinn said no. She understood. Carlton had seen her with Puck. They all knew now and therefore they wanted nothing to do with her. It hurt but she could barely feel it. Everything else hurt too.

"You shouldn't be alone" Anne insisted.

"Santana" Quinn whispered. "You can call Santana Lopez. I don't have her number with me…"

"I'll find it."

But evening turned into night and Santana didn't show up either. Anne went home to her family. Another nurse checked up on her every ten minutes. And she was finally allowed to sleep, an hour at a time. But now she couldn't. She looked out of the hospital room window. They stars were barely visible. Her head was hurting too much for her to understand all the consequences right now. She held on to what she knew. Richard had almost hit another car and instead hit a tree. He had left her in the car. Someone else had gotten her out and driven to her the hospital. She had a broken arm, a concussion and probably two broken ribs. Her parents didn't want to come; neither did Santana. And her baby might be dead.

…

"Good morning" Anne said happily the next morning. "Our nurse who is specialized in obstetrics is coming in today. She'll take a look at you."

Quinn got a breakfast tray filled with things that tasted like cardboard. She felt ill and ate nothing. She couldn't tell if it was the pregnancy sickness or the concussion sickness.

"Your husband… Did he leave you in that car? That man who drove you in said so..."

"I guess" Quinn said.

"I don't blame you for not wanting to see him then."

"I deserved it."

"Don't say it."

"I've been so stupid."

Anne looked confused. She refilled Quinn's glass of water, just to have something to do.

"You can go home soon, honey" she said soothingly.

"I don't have a home."

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Anne smiled brightly.

"Our baby specialist is here!" she chirped.

Quinn met Puck's mother's eyes and felt like nothing else could possibly go wrong. Elisabeth Puckerman looked older than she had before. She had big, blue circles under her eyes and did not return Anne's smile. Of course. This wasn't a big hospital. Elisabeth Puckerman worked here, Quinn knew that.

"This is Quinn" Anne said. "She was in a car accident yesterday. Eight or nine weeks along, she thinks. Can you check her out for us?"

Elisabeth nodded mutely. Quinn said nothing either. She let Puck's mother feel her body and the cervix again and her pulse and everything. The room was intensely quiet. Did she know that the baby was her son's? Yes. She must.

"We'll have to wait and see" she said finally. "If nothing changes, no blood or cramps, over the coming few days; I'd say everything is in order."

"That's wonderful!" Anne said, actually clapping her hands.

Quinn still said nothing. Elisabeth looked at her like she wanted to either slap her or pity her. She took the gloves off and left without another word.

"She's just tired" Anne excused her colleague.

Quinn nodded like she believed that.

…

It took three more days of loneliness and pain before she got her first visitors. The nurses and doctors were getting more and more optimistic about her pregnancy, telling her that the baby was probably fine and that they were just keeping her in for observation at this point. Maybe they would have even sent her home if it wasn't for Anne, who had somehow grasped that Quinn didn't have a home anymore, and fought for her to say. Anne was also the one to show Quinn's visitors in.

"Honey, your sister is here!" she said happily.

Frannie looked flushed. Her hair was sticking up in the back and she was wearing the clothes that she used to wear to country club's pool. Grace stood next to her, in her maid's uniform and a collected face. Quinn felt something like relief at the sight of them.

"I'm sorry" Frannie said as she hurried to Quinn's bedside. "I'm sorry. They wouldn't let me come… And… I couldn't just leave the kids and drive over here. I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

"Fine" Quinn said.

Grace sat down on the only chair and folded her hands in her lap.

"I wanted to see you to, Miss Quinn. But this is a white people's hospital and…"

"I know" Quinn said. "I know."

"Oh, darling. Everything is such a mess" Frannie cried out.

"Calm down, Miss Frannie" Grace said seriously. "Miss Quinn is in bad shape. Don't worry her."

"Tell me" Quinn urged them. "I need to know."

Frannie and Grace exchanged a look. Quinn wanted to claw the truth out of them and at the same time wanted to discuss something else. The weather maybe.

"Carlton says that he saw you kissing another man. That he and Richard walked out and caught you with one of the workers. And they all believed him, mama and daddy and everyone. Richard whisked you off before you could defend yourself."

"I have no defense."

Frannie scrunched up her face to stop herself from crying.

"I thought… I suspected it. That you had someone else. You were so happy when you came home with your hair messy and… And you were so sad and troubled and…"

"I couldn't tell you. No one was even supposed to know."

"But you were so mad at Carlton for what he did to me."  
>"I know. I'm the worst hypocrite in the world."<p>

"It doesn't matter now" Grace said with the same voice she used to use when they fought as kids. "Go on and tell her what happened, Frannie."

Frannie bit her lip. Quinn hated herself. She had let everyone down.

"We didn't know what happened to you. Daddy said you had run away with that man. Richard didn't tell us anything. I didn't know that you were hurt."

"They called" Quinn mumbled. "The nurse's called, several times."

"They didn't tell me" Frannie whispered. "I thought you were in New York already. Living the dream. Or maybe I didn't think it as much as hope it."

"And then what happened?"  
>"I heard Carlton talking to Richard over the phone. He said something about crashing his car and going to hospital and he mentioned you."<p>

Quinn nodded. This part was irrelevant really, she was just stalling. What she really needed to know was what had happened. Had her father cancelled her insurance? Had it all spread over town? Had Puck left yet?

"Do they all hate me?" she whispered.

Frannie hesitated. Too long. Yes, that was the answer.

"Mama wanted to keep it quiet. But you know daddy, never the discreet one. And Carlton didn't help, I guess."

"Are people giving you a hard time, Fran?"

"No, it's fine."  
>It wasn't. Quinn knew how small-minded and mean people could be in this town. She had been a part of it.<p>

"And you, Grace?"

"My friends don't care."

"What about the white people?"

"They don't notice me."

Quinn pulled her quilt tighter around her.

"Daddy went through your stuff. He found things, in your pockets and your purses. Receipts from gas stations out of town and some kind of ticket to a New Year's Eve party. And he just got angrier and angrier…"

"I can't go home."

"No, not right now."

"Alright."

Frannie crossed and uncrossed her legs. She wasn't a rebel, Quinn knew that, she would never fight for her sister's right in the family. But she had come. She had come here and tried not to judge and it was enough. They couldn't all be fighters.

"I'm sorry" she mumbled. "How are you? You look okay."

"Yeah, I'm okay" Quinn smiled. "Broken arm, broken ribs and banged up head. That's it. I got lucky."

The irony of those words made the smile on her lips falter just a bit.

"And the baby?" Grace asked.

"Did you tell her?" Frannie asked.

"No, she just knew" Quinn. "The baby is… fine, I think."

"It's his, isn't it? That man? Not Richard's? That's why you didn't want to tell him."

Quinn tried to nod, she just couldn't get used to how much that hurt.

"We need to get going" Grace said softly.

"Right" Frannie said, straightening her face. "We left the babies with mama. I said I was going to doctor's checkup and wanted Grace to come with me."

"Clever" Quinn smiled.

"No, not really" Frannie sighed. "But you know, I never did go to college."

Quinn waved them out of the room. As the door closed behind them she finally could realize that had happened. Her sister had to lie to see her. Her father hated her. Her husband had left her stranded on gravel road. She was all alone. Her hand found her stomach. No, not all alone after all.

…

People began to stop outside her room and whisper now. The glass wall made her feel like an animal. Anne shut the curtains with a stern look on her face. Quinn could still feel people talking about her, knowing that they were saying. She could take the laughing and whispering and pointing, but she kept thinking about what Puck had told her. About how people had spat at his mother on street, calling her things to her face and worse, done it to her son.

"The thing is Quinn," Anne began. "You're going to be fine. There is no real reason for me to keep you here anymore."

"I know."

"We can always play the pregnancy card, a baby is always a risk, but we have to get Elisabeth to tell the doctor and she's off this week."

"It'll work out."

"Will it?"

"No, probably not."

Quinn tried to smile but it turned into a grimace. Anne again refilled her glass of water. It was thing to do when things got hard.

"I'll call Elisabeth."  
>"No, don't."<p>

Quinn didn't know if people knew about Puck. Maybe they were giving him a hard time already. There was no doubt in why Elisabeth hated her. Quinn tried to think what date it was, if he had already left, but she came up blank. The world kept spinning outside but inside everything stood still.

"You have any friends who would let you in?"  
>"No."<p>

Anne stared desperately at Quinn's already full water glass. She sighed deeply.

"I'll talk to Elisabeth. Don't worry. It'll be fine."

…

Elisabeth Puckerman came to visit her late one night. She wasn't wearing her uniform and her hair was down. Without doing any tests or examinations, she sat down next to Quinn's bed on the same chair that Grace had sat on. Her eyes weren't full of hate or spite. They just looked tired and worried.

"They won't let you stay much longer" she said.

"I know."

"I can give you two or three days, but that's it."

"I know."

"He's gone, Quinn. He left this morning."

She nodded mutely. It hurt her head but not as much as it hurt her heart. He was gone. He had slipped out of her hands.

"It wouldn't do any good to tell him" Elisabeth went on. "About the baby."

"Wouldn't it?"  
>"He already left."<p>

"Yes."  
>"He never asked for this."<br>"Neither did I."  
>"He's just a victim here" Puck's mother whispered, her voice breaking.<p>

"And I'm the villain?"

"No. Yes. I don't know."

Quinn had no strength to get angry or argue. She wasn't innocent in this but neither was he. Or was he?

"There's no point" Elisabeth whispered. "He already left."

Quinn wondered if he had tried to see her. Who had stopped him? Or who? Had he been afraid? He had never struck her like a person who was afraid of being harassed. Maybe he just hadn't cared.

"Okay" Quinn whispered back.

Her hands were cold. She hid them under the blanket for warmth. They had cut off her wedding ring when she had entered the ER. She wondered what had happened to it.

"Take care of yourself, Quinn."

"I will."  
>Elisabeth looked at her one more time. She looked too young to be a mother to a grown up son. Or too sad. Or both.<p>

…

She missed him. She lay in her bed and stared into the ceiling and listened to wind outside and missed him. Spring was turning into summer and he had flown off to some base in North Carolina. Then he would fly even further, fight and maybe die. And she would be here, or somewhere else, always wondering if he was okay. What should she tell their baby when it was old enough to ask? That his or her father had died in war, that wasn't a lie, it was a fair assumption. Or that the world had been against them? Or that he didn't t even know that he had a son or daughter?

She cried for two days and then her time in the hospital was up.

…

"Let's get ready" Anne said softly.

Quinn nodded obediently. She pulled on the huge, soft dress that Anne had brought her from the lost and found. She put on her shoes, the only two things that hadn't been ruined by the accident. She wondered if she could sell them for money. They took the elevator down. People stared at her. Or she was imagining it. Where should she go? She had no idea.

"You take care now" Anne told her with too much force and Quinn wanted to hug her for caring even though no one asked her to.

Quinn stepped out into the real world on shaky legs. She had nothing except a pair of shoes and a dress that smelled like socks.

"Get in the car for Christ's sake" someone called to her.

She turned around. Santana had rolled the window down of a car. The first feeling Quinn felt was fear. The second was hope. The third was fear again.

"Come on, this is an ambulance zone. Can't park here forever."  
>She carefully opened the passenger door and climbed in. As soon as she was in, Santana drove off. She was smoking and listening to loud music. Quinn hated both.<p>

"Where are we going?" Quinn asked over the singer's wailing tunes.

"Home."

"I can't."

"Not yours, stupid. Mine."

She said nothing else and neither did Quinn. She sat quietly and stared into the wilderness that they drove past.

"How did you know when to be here?"

"Liz told me."

"Who?"  
>"Puck's mom."<p>

She lit another cigarette.

"This isn't your car" Quinn said.

"No shit. I don't have a car."

"Who's is it?"  
>"Liz's. She lent me this. Said she doesn't need two cars."<p>

Santana clenched her mouth and stared ahead. He had left. It was affecting everyone.

"Now be quiet" Santana said snappily.

And Quinn was.

…

Santana's house hadn't changed. It was still tiny and rather messy and the windows didn't close properly. Quinn hovered awkwardly in the door way.

"Come in, dumbass" Santana told her so she did. "The couch is yours."

"I can stay?"  
>"Why else would I bring you here?"<p>

"I don't know. You didn't come and visit me and…"

"Darling, you don't know half of it."

Santana flung herself in the lumpy couch and kicked off her shoes. A third cigarette already burned in her hand.

"Tell me then."

"Sit down then."

She did.

"They almost killed him, Quinn" Santana said darkly.

And Quinn's heart stopped beating.

"Who did?" she whispered.

"Your brother-in-law and his friends. Found him outside his house and beat him bloody. They only stopped when Liz came home from work. Got scared of the headlights or something."

"But he left for the army? He must fine" Quinn insisted, still not sure she was breathing properly.

"He left, yeah. They must be desperate. They crushed the bones in his hand. A rib had punctured a lung… I don't know all of it. I didn't ask. I didn't want to know."

Quinn understood Elisabeth's tired face and why she hadn't worked in a week. She understood why she didn't want Quinn to mention the baby. If she did, he might come back.

"You hate me too" she said.

"No, I don't. I just think, life was easier before you. Before you, he never would have even thought of re-enlisted. Before you, no one noticed him or me. It was just easier."

"Then why are you letting me stay?"

"You would have done the same for me."

Quinn didn't know if that was true.

"Did you see him?" she asked instead. "In the hospital?"

"Yeah."

"What did he say?"

"His jaw was broken or bruised or something. They wouldn't let him speak."

The whole world stopped spinning. Ever since she got into the car with Richard, it had all been surreal. Now, she could see it all clearly. If she would have had any tears left in her, she would have cried, but she was empty. And cold.

"What about you?" Santana asked. "Why did they keep you so long? You don't look that bad."

She didn't know about the baby. Elisabeth hadn't told her.

"They were nice" she answered and it wasn't a lie. "They knew I had nowhere to go."

Santana's face softened for a second before she looked away, collecting herself.

"The people around here won't bother you. Most of them don't know who you are."

"Right."

"Just… don't go into town. Okay?"  
>"Is it that bad?"<p>

"I don't know. I just don't want you to be beat up too."

That was probably the nicest thing Santana had ever said to her.

…

Santana left for one of her jobs, working the night shift at some truck stop diner by the highway. Quinn locked the door behind her and drew the curtains shut. It was hot outside but she felt cold and afraid and paranoid. In a cupboard she found sheets and a duvet. She pulled them out to get her "bed" ready when the gray t-shirt fell out in front of her feet. She bet down to pick it up and held it out in front of her. The print was the word _YOUTH _in red, in big bold letters and under it _FOR KENNEDY_. It was his, she knew before she pressed it to her nose. It was too big for Santana and wrinkled enough to be forgotten.

"I'm sorry" she told the t-shirt.

It was soft and must not have been worn many times. How long had it been in that cupboard? Did Santana know it was there? Quinn drew in the scent of it, of him. And without thinking, she stuffed under the pillow on the couch.

"I'm going mad" she said to it and no one. "I'm really going mad."

…

Santana juggled three jobs, saving money for her New York trip. She put out an advert in newspaper that she was selling the house but when someone called, she turned them down. Quinn wasn't stupid. She knew that Santana was staying for her sake. None of them ever mentioned it, instead Quinn made dinner with help of some old cook books from the forties.

"You have never cooked in your life, have you?" Santana grimaced at Quinn's grits and ham.

"Not really. Sorry."  
>Santana shrugged.<p>

"I've had worse."

They ate in silence. Quinn worried of money. She had none. She had called the bank and got the answer that she had zero dollars in her account. Her father had emptied it. She wasn't even sure that was legal. Her trust fund had been unlocked when she turned 21. He couldn't just take it back, could he? She needed money, not a lot of it, just some. She couldn't live off Santana forever. What would happen when the baby came?

"Do you wanna go to church with me in the morning?" Santana asked.

"I can't."

"Sure you can. I usually don't go 'cause Sundays my only day off and I like to sleep in, but we can go. It's usually fun."

"Won't they all stare at me?"  
>"Sure they will, but you need to get used to that, don't you?"<p>

"Yeah" Quinn exhaled.

…

Quinn wasn't the only blonde girl in the church. They were other white girls, the ones that Rachel used to call _white trash_. She had borrowed one of Santana's dresses, it was bright red because Santana didn't do discreet colors, but at least it covered her knees. People did stare at her but she wasn't sure if it was because they knew of the _scandal _or because she was an unfamiliar face.

"'Tana" an old lady called. "Over here!"

"My nana" Santana explained as they sat down in the pew next to the elderly lady.

"You haven't been here in weeks" Nana Lopez said.

"Well, I'm here now" Santana grinned. "Nana, this is my friend Quinn."  
>Quinn shook the old lady's hand with her left, her right was still in a cast.<p>

"I have never felt smoother hand in my life" Nana Lopez remarked. "Where did you find this girl, 'Tana?"

"I didn't" Santana said. "Puck did."  
>"Bless his soul."<p>

"Sure."

"Have you heard anything from that stupid boy?"

"Not yet."  
>Quinn looked away. She never asked Santana about him. She had no right to.<p>

"Why should he fight someone else's war? He's just a boy, a good boy who…"

"I know, Nana."

The service started. It wasn't that much different than the ones that Quinn used to attend. The minister read from the bible and some people said _amen _with feeling and it was hot. And they sang. The hymns were the same but they sounded different without the organ, just a man playing the piano. But Quinn felt it, every word. Santana's voice was strong and clear and beautiful. She was a star on stage but even in the middle of hundreds, she was noticed. She probably couldn't help it. The hymn was about faith, having it and losing it and regaining it. She took Santana's hand just like Frannie's had taken her once before. Santana's fingers closed around hers and squeezed as she sang. When the last note echoed into silence they both let go and didn't mention it again.

…

She paid for a candle and lit in the back of the church. She closed her eyes and begged for Puck to be safe. And she asked for forgiveness for what she had done. And prayed for her baby. Maybe she should have bought three candles but she didn't have the money for it.

"Ready to go?" Santana asked.

Quinn nodded even though she would have liked to stay forever. They walked back to the house to save gas. Quinn's arm ached a bit. They past the school, with its partly renovated gym. She wanted ask Santana things. About him. About them. But she couldn't and she didn't dare.

"I saw Brittany yesterday" Santana said, keeping her tone level. "She's getting huge."

"Yeah."

"She kept smiling at _him_."

"She's happy, San."

"Even if she left him for me, what would happen to us? People would hate us more than they hate you."  
>"Thanks."<p>

"My nana would never look at me again."

Quinn was supposed to argue with that but she couldn't. Family bonds meant nothing in the end, her family was proof of that.

"I used to think it would pass. That I would be like everyone else. Find some guy, marry him and have kids. I've never wanted anything less but, you know, I hope that I will want it someday."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't say that. I hate it when you say that."

"I don't know what else to say."  
>"Just be quiet then."<p>

"Fine."

The sun was high in sky now. Quinn was sweating through Santana's dress.

"Didn't you hope that too?" Santana asked. "That one day you would just fall in love with that husband of yours?"

Quinn stared at her empty finger again.

"Yeah, I did."

"And what happened?"

"I hated him in the end, I think."

"Brilliant" Santana tersely.


	17. there's nothing in here that's a moving

Frannie took a nervous step into Santana's kitchen. She had Jamie and Laura with her and all three of them looked scared. Scared of the lack of things, pretty things.

"Hi baby" Quinn mumbled into Laura's soft skin.

"Are you okay?" Frannie whispered, staring at the boarded up windows and the lumpy couch and the lack of art work.

"I'm fine" Quinn promised.

"Did you park your car in front of the house?" Santana asked.

"Yes."

"Smart. No one will react to a big, fancy car parked outside."

Frannie didn't notice the sarcasm. She extended her hand to Santana.

"Hello, I'm Frannie Barton, Quinn's sister."

Santana smirked before shaking her hand. She didn't introduce herself.

"I brought you some cash" Frannie moved on, opening her purse and handing Quinn a big envelope.

"Where did you get it?"

"I have a trust fund too."

"You don't have to give me that."

"I have other money and frankly, I don't even need it. I just can't empty the entire account at once, daddy would notice."

Santana snorted from the kitchen. Quinn ignored her. Santana might think that Frannie's actions were minor or worthless, but they were not. She did what she could. She had kids of her own, kids that needed the house they lived in and food and grandparents that loved them.

"Thank you" she said.

She opened the envelope and counted the notes quickly.

"It's too much."  
>"It's not. You'll need to eat better and go to doctor checkups and…"<p>

"Fine" Quinn snapped quickly before Frannie spilled the beans

"Just be careful, okay?"

"I will. Thank you."

She handed Quinn a plastic bag filled with clothes, her own dresses and pajamas and in the bottom, Frannie's maternity clothes. Quinn closed the bag quickly.

"Thank you, Fran."

"Sure. Anything. You know…"

"Ramon from across the street is checking out your wheels" Santana remarked after looking out the window. "I'd be careful. He needs a new pair of rims."

Frannie bit her lip. She took Quinn's hands and squeezed them tightly.

"I'll talk to mama and daddy, I'll make them take you back in."

"I'm not sure I want to come back."

"You don't really have much of a choice" her sister sighed.

"She has me" Santana said. "Or is my place too rough for a Fabray?"

Frannie jumped.

"No, I'm sorry, I really am. I don't mean any offense, I just think in Quinn's current state…"

"Your car, Fran."

"Oh, right."

Quinn kissed her niece and nephew goodbye and watched them leave.

…

"And there, it's off!" Anne, the nurse, said happily and threw the cast in to the trash.

Quinn wiggled her fingers and flexed her wrist. It didn't hurt, it just felt stiff and unused. Her arm looked small and thin and weak. Just like she felt.

"Am I healed then?" she asked, smiling.

Anne chuckled.

"I suppose so, yes."

"How do I pay? I don't know if I still have insurance…"

"You do, until the end of next month. I checked."

"My father's not paying anymore after that, is he?"

"It seems like he has had a change of heart."

"It does."

Anne looked uncertain of what to say so Quinn saved her.

"Thank you" she said. "For everything."

"You should make an appointment, for the pregnancy checkups I mean. Before the end of the month."

"Yes, I guess I should."

"Elisabeth should be able to squeeze you in on Friday."

"Isn't there anyone else?" Quinn asked too quickly.

Anne looked away. She knew now, someone had told her or she had worked out the puzzle herself. Elisabeth Puckerman's son was Quinn Fabray's scandalous lover. Oh the gossip.

"She wanted to be your nurse."

"Did she?" Quinn asked, both surprised and scared.

Anne nodded. Quinn nodded too.

"Okay."

"How about two o'clock?"

"Sure."

…

Quinn Fabray had always known that she was from a small town but it wasn't until now she understood just how small. As she stepped out of the hospital, it felt like everyone stared at her. Old men with newspapers and cigars, young girls playing in parking lot, even the hospital's janitor stared at her. Perhaps was she just being paranoid. Perhaps this _Quinn _she heard a redhead mumble about was someone else.

"Quinn?"

She turned around and faced Rachel Berry. Quinn could tell that Rachel already regretted calling out her name. It had probably been a reflex, a force of habit. They had known each other all their lives and suddenly the rules had changed.

"Hello Rachel" Quinn said.

"Hi" Rachel said weakly.

Quinn thought about how her friend had been before marrying Finn. She had been bossy and obnoxious and impossible, and she would not have been ashamed to talk to an old friend. Quinn didn't know who to blame. Finn or the kids or something else. It was too bad though. Quinn would have liked to have the old Rachel around.

"Finn's waiting for me inside with Leroy. I have to dash."

"Okay."

Rachel nodded and then half-ran away. Quinn watched her go. It was absurd, all of it. Rachel running away from her. Quinn shook her head at everything and got on the bus. She had to ask how to pay for her ticket, only one of the blank spots in her life education. She sat down next to lady with a big, red handbag. She looked nice enough, but when the bus stopped again, the lady got up and switched seats. Quinn stared out of the window and tried not to care.

…

They walked together to grocery store. Even though they had Puck's mom's car, gas still cost money. Quinn had never before thought about walking or taking the bus. She had gotten her own car on her 16th birthday and used it almost every day after that. Now every cent mattered, even with Frannie's money.

"I met one of my friends today" Quinn said. "She wouldn't look me in the eye."

"Brittany?"

"No, not Brittany."

"Would Brittany look you in the eye do you think?"

Quinn wondered how much Santana thought of Brittany. Every second? She could connect any and every topic to her.

"Maybe. Yeah, I think so. I don't think she would care."

Santana smiled at his, a little girl's smile with blushing cheeks and glittering eyes. Quinn looked away. Love was painful to look at when you had none.

"She never seemed to mind my house, even if it's small and shabby and… Not like your sister who couldn't wait to get away."

"Frannie helped us, remember?"

"Yeah, but she was scared to even drive out here."

Quinn nodded at a small woman she had met a few days earlier. People had started to recognize her now. They didn't know her name and she didn't know theirs, but they said hello and were polite enough. Roman, their 17 year old neighbor, had shaken her hand one of her first days, leaving her skin muddy. It reminded her of Puck and she had hurried off.

"Brittany doesn't care about having money" Santana said sternly.

"It's easy not to care about money when you have a lot of it" Quinn sighed.

"What do you mean?"

"I never thought about money before. Never. I always just had it. I could buy anything. I didn't, but I could. Now, I count the money in that envelope every day, just be sure it's there."

Santana opened the door to the small grocery store and they stepped inside. Quinn hadn't spent much time in stores like this before. Grace had always done the shopping, making sure they never ran out of milk or butter or cookies. Santana was used to it though, she trotted around the shelves, picking up a carton here and a potato there.

"My family's coming over tonight. My parents live two hours from here, they moved when daddy got a new job. They come here once a month to check on me. You wanna eat with us?" she asked.

Quinn nodded.

"Yeah. Sure."

…

"You're still here then?" Santana's nana asked and kissed Quinn's cheek.

"Yeah" Quinn smiled.

She hovered awkwardly in the kitchen, watching as the Lopez clan entered the house. There weren't that many of them, just the nana, a mother, a father and a brother, but it felt like hundreds. They laughed loudly and made big hand movements and Quinn couldn't have pictured Santana's family to be like anything else.

"Mama, daddy; this is Quinn. She's been staying with me" Santana said, pointing at Quinn who waved stupidly.

"The girl that Puck talked about that one time, remember?" Nana Lopez said. "The rich one who…"

"Yeah, mama, we remember" Santana's dad hurried to say.

He shook Quinn's hand and pulled out a chair for her. She liked him immediately. Santana had inherited her looks from him, her slim frame and big lips and long eyelashes. Her mother was short, almost tiny. The brother had wide shoulders and big hands and a grin that spread across his entire face.

"The one he got beaten up over?" the brother asked, winking at her.

"Shut up" Santana snapped.

"It was a joke, San. _Jesus_."

"Well, I'll get some to break your jaw and ribs and then let's see if you're still laughing…"

"That's enough, both of you" Santana's mother said and broke it off.

She unpacked boxes of food, food that smelled better than the meals that Quinn tried to make. She poured them all homemade ice tea that tasted almost as good as Grace's. Quinn ate in silence, comfortable with listening to babble around her. Alex, Santana's brother, was getting nagged on by his Nana for not getting good grades. He told her that he was going to be a football star anyway, so it wouldn't matter.

"No, I'm not singing the church choir anymore. I hated it. The cantor kept telling me to _blend in_" Santana told her mother.

"You could do with a bit of blending in" her mother countered.

Quinn smiled at the look on Santana's face. She listened to all of them and none of them. This was that a family should be like. Rowdy and loving and loud and together. No one was left out.

"Did you see him before he left?" Santana's father asked her quietly.

She looked up at him. She never asked about Puck, never spoke of him. Why should she do it with this man she had never met before? Because she wanted it. Because just like Santana always thought of Brittany, she always thought of Puck. Every second.

"No" she answered. "I was in the hospital."

"Have you heard from him?"

"No."

"It wasn't your fault. Santana is quick to judge and she might still hold you responsible for it, but you're not. Okay?"

She wanted to lean her head onto his shoulder and close her eyes and let him hold her. He seemed nice. She wanted nice.

"Okay" she echoed.

…

She made them all coffee and poured it into chipped cups. Nana Lopez fell asleep in the rocking chair and no one woke her.

"She always does that" Alex told Quinn. "She falls asleep earlier and earlier every time."

Quinn sat down on the couch, her bed, and held the cup between her hands. It scolded her flesh but it felt appropriate.

.

"No men in your life, San?" Santana's mother asked. "No one who can marry you and whisk you off to New York?"

"Nope."

Quinn wondered what would happen if Santana told them about liking girls. They would understand, wouldn't they? They all seemed so down to earth and nice and non-judgmental. But still Santana didn't dare them who she really was.

"You should have married Puck when you had the chance" Alex yawned.

"I never had the chance" Santana snarled.

"You did. Before he met this blonde beauty who swept him off his feet…"

"I didn't…" Quinn began.

"Alex…" Santana's father began.

"Shut up" Santana spat.

The silence that followed was the first in hours. It almost hurt Quinn's ears.

"You shouldn't have let him leave again" Alex said.

"What was I supposed to do? Handcuff him to his bed?"

"Something. You could have done something."

"I _tried_" Santana whispered.

Quinn was terrified to see tears in her eyes now.

"You should have tried harder" Alex insisted.

"Stop it" Quinn said, grabbing Santana's wrist and holding it tight. "It was my fault. He left because of me. Don't yell at her."

They all looked at her. She blushed scarlet.

"Sorry" she mumbled. "I just don't like it when people fight."  
>Santana's father smiled.<p>

"Better get used to it, sweetheart, we fight a lot in this family."

Puck wasn't mentioned again. Quinn was both relieved and sad about it. She liked to hear people talk about him since she couldn't.

…

"Twelve weeks" Elisabeth Puckerman said. "I think you're twelve weeks along."

Quinn tried to swallow down the tears that lingered in her throat.

"Three months" Quinn said, like an idiot.

"Yes."

Elisabeth's face didn't change for second. She spoke in formal tone and never looked Quinn in the eye. Quinn didn't say anything either. Nothing like "your grandchild is three months old". Quinn thought it though and Elisabeth must too.

"How do you feel?"

"Better. I don't feel sick anymore."

"Good."

She checked some box on a chart with Quinn's name on it.

"You can put your shirt on."

Quinn pulled on the cotton blouse Frannie had brought her. Her own clothes had begun to feel tight and you could spot the tiny bump where her stomach used to be flat. The door opened and doctor stepped in. Quinn recognized him. She had asked Elisabeth about him ages ago. Light years ago. When she thought she would be here with Richard's baby.

"Hello" he said, glancing at the chart. "Ms. Fabray. I'm Dr. Johnson."

"Hello."

He looked at her closely. Not her stomach or the vitals on her chart, but at her face.

"Your husband isn't with you then?"

"No."

"Why is that?"

He knew. Of course he did. They all did.

"He couldn't come."

"Your chart says _Ms. _Fabray."

"It does."

"And you're not wearing a ring?"

"They cut it off when my husband crashed our car into a tree."

She stared challengingly into his eyes. She wouldn't let him embarrass her.

"Your son, he has left for the army, ain't that right, nurse?"

Elisabeth pretended to scribble something on the chart.

"Yes."

"Are you going to examine me or what?" Quinn asked harshly.

Her hands were trembling with rage and distress. The doctor smiled and shook his head.

"I think Elisabeth wants to handle you on her own. Family first, right?"

He left the room. Quinn said nothing. She buttoned the last button of the blouse, took her purse and left too. Elisabeth followed her.

"Have you heard from him?" she asked.

"No."  
>"Me neither."<p>

She took the stairs down to the ground floor and the bus home and cooked dinner and not until she was on the couch, holding his t-shirt did she cry. For her baby that was fine. And for him, that might not be.

…

"Let's play a game" Santana said.

"What kind of game?"

"We tell each other secrets. You know, like you did on sleepovers when you're a kid."

"I never had sleepovers" Quinn replied.

"Me neither. I didn't have any girlfriends until I was too old."

Santana had bought cheap wine and drunk half of it in an hour. Her eyes were getting dim and her voice raspy and her laugher throaty. Quinn leaned back on the chair and closed her eyes.

"I'll start" Santana said. "I once walked in on my parents having sex. I was nine or ten and just stood there and watched for minutes."

Quinn giggled.

"Did they realize?"

"Nope."

Santana threw her head back and laughed. The sound felt like gush of hot wind.

"Your turn, Fabray."

She acted like she was searching her brain for something to say.

"I once stole my friend's boyfriend just because I was lonely. She got him back and they got married and all, but yeah, I did that."

"That's not a secret" Santana complained. "That's just sad."

"Or mean."

"Fine. I'll tell you another. I read in some magazine when I was a kid that you could remove freckles with lemon juice. So I got the idea that lemon juice was like magic, like it could do whatever you wanted. So I stole all these lemons from a shop and just _poured _it over myself while wishing for blonde hair and a better nose and a thinner waist."  
>"That's cute."<p>

"Your turn."

"I'm tired."

Santana drained the last of her glass.

"I'm giving you an opening here, Q. Just say it. It's the perfect occasion."

Quinn felt her cheeks burn.

"What?"

"Just say it. _I'm pregnant."_

Quinn bit her lip. She swallowed, once, twice, three times. Santana looked scary with her bright eyes and pursed lips.

"I'm pregnant."

"There you go. Wasn't that hard, was it?"

"How did you find out?"

"I've lost three pounds eating the food you make. You've gained five."

"Right."

"You should take the bed. It's only right in _your condition_."

"The couch is fine."

"Good, we'll share the bed. I'm so skinny now we'll both fit."

Quinn smiled.

"What was your plan?" Santana asked. "I mean, getting pregnant isn't something you just explain away. It usually ends with a kid, you know."

"I've realized."

Santana stood up and carried their dishes to the sink. She sang some song quietly to herself. Quinn thanked God or anyone who deserved credit for Santana not making a scene about this.

"Just tell me that is isn't Richard's" Santana said with her back turned.

Quinn waited a few seconds before answering.

"It's not."

"Does he know?"

"Richard? Yeah. I told him."

"No, Puck. Does he know?"

"No."

"Why not?"  
>"There's no point. He would just come back and get beaten up again and…"<p>

"I get it" Santana cut across her. "I get it, believe me. He's safer in fucking Vietnam."

…

Santana knowing made things easier and more difficult. She wouldn't let Quinn forget it for a second. Every look was filled with it. Quinn turned away and didn't know how to respond.

"You need a plan" Santana confronted her.

"I have one."

"Great. Spill."

"When you leave for New York, I'll buy this house from you and…"  
>"Where will you get the money?"<br>"Frannie can help me."  
>"You can't stay here."<p>

"But if you leave…"

"You can't stay in this town. They will never forget, these people. They never forgot about Elisabeth and they will never forget about you."

"My family's here…"

"They kicked you out. They're not your family anymore."

Quinn winced. She wasn't alone, she reminded herself. She had this baby. His baby. And hers.

"Do you even realize that you're going to have a kid?" Santana asked bitterly. "Bethany in my homeroom in high school got pregnant at sixteen and was more prepared than you are."

Quinn sat down on the couch. His t-shirt was still tucked under one of the cushions. Santana didn't stop.

"What are you going to say if he comes back?"

"_When_."

"What?"  
>"When he comes back. He will."<br>Santana opened her mouth and then closed it again. She crossed her arms, hugging herself.

"Are you going to lie to him?" she asked, her voice weaker now. "Are you going to tell him the baby is Richard's?"

"I don't know" Quinn confessed.

"Then figure it out."

Santana slammed the bathroom door behind her. She turned the water on in the shower but Quinn could still hear her crying.

…

Frannie was going to meet her in town, in the parking lot behind the store. Quinn sat in the shade, hot and sweaty and inpatient. She thought of her old room, with her window, where she used to sit when days got too hot. She thought of Grace's cold lemonade and reading books and watching the plantation. There must have been bad times too, but she couldn't remember them. When she had had it all. Her family and her new friends and her old friends and Grace and him. Puck. Before she had left and he had left and everything had gotten ruined.

"Imagine meeting you here."  
>She flinched at the sound of Carlton's voice. He walked up with her with self-assurance that made her cower.<p>

"My lovely wife got held up at home. I volunteered to go in her place."

He sat down next to her on the dusty wall, like they were friends. She moved away from him, just an inch. It made him chuckle.

"What do you want?" she asked, trying to sound icy but came off as scared.

"You're showing already. Congrats, I guess, never thought you'd be a mother."

She pulled her cardigan tighter around her, to shield her body from his eyes.

"Have you heard from him then?" he asked. "The father of your beloved child?"  
>"Leave me alone."<br>"He couldn't get far enough away from he, could he? Had to leave the country?"

His words used to have no effect on her. She used to watch him torment Frannie and not understand how she could buy any of the shit he was saying. But that was before. In the good times.

"You don't know anything."

"Might be dead already, right?"

"_What do you want_?" she snappd

"Leave Frannie alone. Don't pull her down with you."

"So now you care about her?"

He looked at her, pityingly. She hated him for it. They were the same. He wasn't supposed to pity her. He had lied and she had lied and they were both terrible people. Both of them. He was no better than she was.

"Drop the attitude, honey. You lost all your power when you lost your money. You're just some white trash, knocked up girl now. You have nothing on me."

She turned to leave. He grabbed hold of her arm, roughly enough to bruise. She stopped.

"You shouldn't have fucked it up" he told her, seriously, like he was wise and she was dumb. "You could have still been living in that nice house in Dallas if you hadn't kissed that nigger in front of us."

"At least Richard can find someone else" she said in a begging voice, begging him to leave her alone.

"They laugh at him now. Don't you see? You fucked it up for all of us."

"He drove into a tree and left me in the car. Don't you think we're even?"

Carlton laughed. She hated the dry sound.

"I wouldn't just have left you" he said, patting her cheek. "I would have made sure you were dead first."


	18. never weak but always strong

Hi!  
>God, I have to wrap this story up before it reaches its one day mark...<p>

I just have three things to say.

1. This chapter refers to the book Gone With the Wind by Marget Mitchell, and yeah, it's kind of spoilery. If you hadn't read the book, do that and come back and read this chapter. No, just kidding. But yeah, if you don't want to get spoiled, read with care. (Though, the novel was published in 1936 so I don't know if it's really spoilers...)

2. Some of you alerted me that there is someone who just started basically this story, with different names. And that sucks but you can't really patent an idea like this. It's up for grabs to anyone, I guess. And I've read some of his/her story and she has a very different writing style than me, so yeah, It can't get too similiar,right?

3. Thank you to all you that write reviews. It makes everything better.

* * *

><p>Alex Lopez scowled and slumped his shoulders and sighed heavily.<p>

"I just need to get C's to graduate."  
>"Okay" Quinn said.<p>

She felt nervous and elated at the same time. It had been two days since Santana had told her about her brother's failing grades and outright asked Quinn to help him. Because she had graduated, right? Yes, Quinn had graduated. With honors. As valedictorian. And she had minored in education at college. She didn't tell anyone that though. She didn't want to brag and she felt that Santana probably wouldn't care anyway.

"I'm not stupid or anything" he insisted in an almost challenging voice.

"I don't think you are" Quinn told him. "Let's start with English. I love English. Don't you?"  
>"No."<p>

Alex dumped a thick book on table.

"We have to read this. And write a report about it, if it's ending is fitting or not."

"Oh, which means that you actually have to finish the book? Clever!" Quinn smiled.

Alex scowled. She picked up the book. It was _Gone With The Wind_. She had read it herself in High School. Her copy of the book had been new though while this one had penciled scribblings all over the pages and something that looked like coffee spilled on the cover.

"Did you that Margret Mitchell, who wrote this book, began with the ending? She wrote the final sentences first and then figured out what was going to lead up to it?" Quinn asked, leafing through the pages with a rush of glee.

"Fascinating" Alex sighed.

"It is" Quinn insisted happily. "It means that what you have to write about, the ending, is actually the beginning of it all. You can mention that in your report."

Alex looked skeptically at her.

"Why?"  
>"Teachers love that sort of stuff."<p>

"How do you know?"  
>"Believe me, I do."<br>She winked at him and then handed him the book.

"I know it seems impossible but it's not."

"I don't care about some boring love story."

"It's not _just_ a love story, Alex. Nothing ever is. It's a portrait of its time."

He took the book from her and sighed heavily twice.

"I'll give it shot."

"Do that. Call me if you get stuck."

…

She met Frannie in the romance section of the library. Her sister looked distraught and took Quinn's hands and held them.

"I'm sorry" she said. "I wasn't brave enough to stand up to him. I'm sorry."

"It's okay" Quinn lied, hugging the copy of _Gone with the Wind_ she had picked so she could read along with Alex.

"What did he say to you?"  
>"It doesn't matter, Fran. I don't care what he says."<br>Frannie looked at her shoes. Quinn didn't recognize them, they must be new. Maybe a present from the precious husband.

"Have you heard anything from _him_?" Frannie asked quietly.

"No."

"No? It's been almost two months."  
>"I know. But… Santana says… It might take some time."<p>

The fact that Quinn never spoke of Puck anymore made her unprepared when someone invited to do so. It was one thing to think abstract thoughts and something else to explain it in words.

"I'm sure he's fine."

"Me too" Quinn lied again.

"Brittany had her baby, did you hear?"

"No, boy or girl?"

"Boy. They're naming him Kevin Andrew."

"Send her my best."

"I will."

Quinn sighed. She used to love this library but now it felt like being in a zoo. People kept looking at them, pausing for second too long to stare. She hated them for it. And hated herself for caring.

"Quinn, do you have plan?" Frannie whispered. "For when the baby comes?"  
>Quinn wished that people would stop asking her this. No, she didn't. She didn't even have a plan for tomorrow.<p>

"Can you get me some money? If you can, I'll buy Santana's house. I can stay here and…"

"You should leave."

"What?"

Frannie's face was filled with pain.

"I don't want you to go but this is what your life is now. People stare at you. People talk about you. People think you're a disgrace."

"I don't care…"

"You should. You could have it better, honey. Somewhere else."

…

"I hate Scarlett" Alex pouted. "I don't get it why someone would write a book about someone like her."

Quinn smiled. Alex kept tapping the cover of _Gone with the Wind_ with his finger tips to some rhythm inside his head. He always seemed to be in motion in some way.

"She's complex, don't you think?"

"No. She's the most shallow person in the world."

"Shallowest" Quinn corrected him.

"What?"

"Shallowest, not _most shallow_."

"Whatever."

Tap, tap, tap on the hardcover.

"She's a child of her time and a child of her world, the tiny world of Tara. Where she was the queen and where she always thought that she would marry, Ashley, her prince."

"But still, she marries someone else."

"Well, she couldn't marry Ashley so Charles seemed like good enough option."

Alex rolled his eyes. Tap, tap, tap.

"You shouldn't marry a second best option."

"True, but if everyone did what they were supposed to do, this book would be very boring."  
>"It already is."<br>"Oh come on" Santana sniggered from the couch. "You've already read half of it, Al. That's the most you've read in your life."

"Shut up."  
>Quinn decided to stop them before they started arguing.<p>

"What do you think about Rhett, Alex?" she asked loudly.

"He's the only guy who's sane."

"And still, he loves Scarlett. Do you think that's a flaw or an asset to his person?"

Alex looked pleadingly at her. She didn't budge. Mostly because she wanted to know. Because reading this book had turned in some kind of prophecy of her life. Some kind of symbol or metaphor for who she was and what was happening. She was Scarlett, naïve and spoiled and incapable to love in the right way.

"He should get over her, move on. If she doesn't understand that she loves him, well, that's her loss" he said roughly.

"Maybe she doesn't grasp the concept of love."

"Maybe she's just stupid."

Quinn smiled at him and forced a pen into his hand. It made the tapping stop.

"Make notes. What you think now. It will help with the report."

…

"Be careful" Santana said as they lay in the dark, in the bed they shared. "Be careful or Alex will fall in love with you."

"Don't be stupid."

"He's never read a book before."

"I just don't think he's ever seen the appeal before."

Santana chuckled.

"He sees the appeal in you."  
>"I'm married to a man who tried to kill me and pregnant with somebody else's baby. I think that would be enough to scare most high school students off."<p>

Santana turned over. So did Quinn.

"_He_ used to send letters, you know" Santana whispered. "Last time he went away. I have them saved. One from that army camp and two from the war. And then there was just silence and then, one day, he was on my doorstep with a bandage on his shoulder."

Quinn didn't know if she was allowed to answer, if she deserved to.

"We've heard nothing this time. Isn't that weird?"

"Yeah" Quinn breathed.

"Elisabeth hasn't heard anything either."

"I know."

"I mean, they're not going to Vietnam to write pretty letters. I get that. But one. Is that too much?"

"No" Quinn said.

"Maybe he'll just show up again. Just like last time."

Quinn didn't answer. She pressed a hand to her stomach and closed her eyes tight.

…

Even though he was all she thought about, she wasn't prepared for it when he came home. Even though she had prayed and hoped and longed for his return, when Elisabeth called with the news, she felt like throwing up.

"Is he hurt again?" she heard Santana ask too loudly and too eagerly.

She couldn't hear the reply. She couldn't hear anything. Santana's mouth opened and closed and Quinn just stared at her.

"He's coming here?" Santana asked loudly, breaking the sound barrier in Quinn's brain.

She started biting her nails, a nervous habit she had abandoned years ago.

"Did you tell him?" Santana wondered. "About… Quinn?"

She shook her head to show Quinn what the answer was. No. Puck didn't now. And he was coming here. Her instinct was to leave, to take the car or the bus and get out of there. Give herself a few hours to figure out what to say.

"He's coming" Santana said again, as she hung up the phone.

"I heard."

"Coming to surprise me."

"Great."

Santana looked her over. Quinn looked away.

"He's going to know. Everyone knows, Q. You can't hide that belly of yours. Too bad you were so skinny before…"

"Maybe if I put on one of your sweatshirts and…"

"What's the point?" Santana said tiredly. "He's going to find out."

"It'll buy me some time."

"You've had time."

And of course that was true.

…

And suddenly he was there. Knocking on the door. Santana opened it and disappeared into his arms. He was tan and his hair longer and he looked _fine_. No bullet wounds and bandages in sight, at least not from where she was standing, half-hiding behind the couch. He smiled as Santana pressed her face into his shoulder and he lifted her off her feet.

"Why didn't you fucking write?" Santana's muffled voice sounded.

"I'll tell you later. I'll explain it all."  
>"Like why you're not in Vietnam?"<p>

"Yeah, things like that."  
>He grinned. And Quinn felt happy too, because he was here and well and looked good. Like he hadn't almost died because of her. Like nothing of the bad things had ever happened. Like she wasn't to blame.<p>

"Fuck, it looks really clean in here" he said, like he had just been away for a week for holiday. "Did you get hitched when I was away and become a housewife?"

"No" Santana said slowly. "Quinn helped."

"Quinn?"  
>He let go of Santana and stepped into the kitchen. Closer to her. She could feel every step he took closer to her.<p>

"Hi" she said.

He smiled weakly, like he was uncertain what to do next. So was she. They just stared at each other.

"Hug or whatever" Santana sighed.

Puck rolled his eyes at her and smiled and Quinn felt safe. It was going to be fine. She stepped into the light of the kitchen lamp. He did a double take. And his face changed. From soft and happy to hard and dark.

"What?" he said. "_What?"_

"Oh yeah" Santana said. "Quinn's pregnant. Did we forget to mention that?"

He said nothing and Quinn backed away, away from the light from the lamp and from the darkness of his eyes.

"I thought he almost killed you" he said, his voice harsh and forceful now. "They said that he drove you into a tree and left you. And still, you stay with him and agree to have his baby?"

"No" she said, her voice broke. "I didn't."

"Liar."

"She's not lying" Santana said softly.

The roles had shifted. He was scary one now, the one she feared and Santana was her defender. Quinn wanted to seek shelter in her, let her speak for her. But that was weak. And she couldn't be weak anymore.

"I haven't spoken to him since" she said.

"And this baby just magically appeared?"

"God, your mama's a nurse, Puck. Don't you know anything about pregnancies? Does she look like Richard just made her pregnant yesterday?"

"I don't fucking know."

But it was dawning on him. She could tell. He hadn't changed that much. His face was still the same. She still could see what he was thinking.

"How long have you known?" he asked.

No, not asked. _Demanded_.

"Too long" she answered. "I'm sorry. I was just trying to protect you."

He shook his head.

"_How long_?"

This reminded her of the car drive with Richard. With his rage and anger and hate. She didn't want anyone else to speak to her like that. Ever. Not even Puck.

"Before I got married" she told him.

"Maybe you should leave" Santana said and Quinn could hear the conflict in her voice.

She wanted him to stay of course, because Santana loved him to bits. But she understood, she was the responsible adult in this. Her, of all people.

"Thanks San" he said sarcastically. "Thanks for picking my side in this."

"There's no sides" Santana insisted. "I just fucking found out myself!"

Quinn wasn't good at being angry. She slumped down on the floor. Weak again, even though she had sworn to be strong.

"Well, what a great welcome home to me" Puck snapped and left.

The door slammed so hard that a plate fell down from a shelf and cracked on the floor. Quinn stared at it and thought that it reminded her of herself.

.

…

She cried into her pillow and Santana cried into hers. They were like two characters in a terrible book about hysterical ladies. Quinn wept silently; Santana bawled. They didn't speak for hours. Just lay there and cried and the day turned into night.

"I'll move out" Quinn said. "I've done enough damage."

"Shut up."

"San…"

"Just shut up."

Quinn remembered speaking to Emma all those months ago. In that diner. During the good times.

_"You must wonder why we put up with her."_

_"She's your friend."_

_"Yes" Emma agreed. "Yes, she is. She's the most loyal person I know, once she lets you in. When my parents split up, she baked, and Santana never bakes, brownies for me every week to cheer me up."_

This must mean that Santana had let her in. That they were proper friends. And Quinn was thankful for that, but she also remembered the rest of that conversation.

_"She might be loyal to me" Emma concluded, "but that's nothing against what she is to him. He could kill someone and she would help him hide the body."_

"He'll forgive you" Quinn whispered to Santana. "He loves you. He will forgive you."

"It's not me I'm worried about."

…

They probably would have stayed there all night if the phone hadn't rung. Santana rushed away to answer it, probably hoping it was Puck. Quinn could her disappointed voice from the kitchen.

"Hi Al. No, I'm not _crying_. I have a cold or something. Look, if you wanna talk to Quinn, this is not the best time. Call again tomorrow?"

Quinn got up and took the phone from Santana.

"It's fine" she said.

She could do with some distraction.

"Alex" she said a greeting, thankful to think of something else.

"Hi" he said. "I just finished the book."  
>She swallowed and wished she had had time blow her nose. Oh well.<p>

"Really? What did you think?"

"I hated it."

The finality in his voice made her smile, just a tiny bit.

"What did you hate?"

"Who the fuck writes a book, that is literally like a thousand pages, about this couple who seems destined to be together. And then, it just ends like that."

Quinn giggled.

"I felt the same when I read it. I was in denial for days."

"I mean, they got together, they had a kid and still, he just walks out on her. When she finally realized that she loves him back. What. The. Fuck."

Quinn took a deep breathe.

"That's realistic though, don't you think? They were very different and you know, most troubled relationships don't end with _happily ever after_."

"But why then write a book about it?"

"Maybe to make us grow up a bit. To realize that just because two people seem to belong, they don't always do. The world isn't like in _Jane Eyre_ and _Pride and Prejudice_ or whatever. The real world is bitter and disappointing and _hurts_."

Alex sighed.

"Can't you just write that down for me?" he begged.

"No" she said, smiling.

"Are you okay?" he asked carefully. "Both you and San sound a bit… weird."

"Puck came back" she told him.

"And?"

"You should start working on that essay tomorrow."

…

Puck coming back was like Christmas for everyone, it seemed. The phone kept ringing to talk to Santana about it, like to congratulate her. She left and drove off in Puck's mother car, probably to return it. She was gone all day and Quinn was left the ringing phone and the loneliness. She cleaned again, scrubbed every visible surface with bleach. She cooked everything they had together in some stew that had a smell that greatly clashed with the bleach's. She washed and ironed all the clothes in the house. Lastly she gently folded her old clothes, the ones that didn't fit anymore. She placed him in the same cupboard were she had found Puck's old t-shirt.

When she was done, she looked around at the empty house and the casserole full of food. And she looked in the mirror, at her sweaty, blotchy face. And wondered if this was how her life was going to be.

…

She came at nine pm, and she brought him with her. Quinn was on the couch watching the news when they came back.

"Darling, I'm home!" Santana called out sarcastically.

"I made stew" Quinn said stupidly.

Santana made a face.

"It smells like bleach."

"No, that's actually bleach. I cleaned."

Puck said nothing. Just watched them.

"Oh well, I'm hungry. Let's eat" Santana decided.

They made the table with three plates and three glasses and still Puck said nothing. She didn't dare look at him but she was almost sure he wasn't looking at her either.

"Now_ Noah_, please tell us about the war" Santana said as they finally sat down.

"You can go first" he said. "Tell me about what happened here."

"Nothing" Santana said exasperated. "Literally nothing happened since you left. Oh, right, Quinn taught Alex to read and Brittany had her third baby. That's about it."

"She's pregnant" Puck insisted.

"No, I just told you, she had the baby."

"Not Brittany."

"Quinn? Yeah. But that happened before you left."

It was like they took turns in talking to her. First Quinn had her go, now Puck had his. Like they didn't speak the same language and needed a translator.

"Tell me what happened" he pressed on, staring into nothing.

She stared into her bowl, trying to make sense out of everything with help from carrots and butter.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, finally speaking directly to her.  
>"I was scared."<p>

"Of what?

"Of everything. Of this happening. Of exactly this."

"You still should have told me. I had a right to know."

"And what would you have done?" she asked, talking to the stew. "Dropped everything and ask me to marry you and everything would have been fine?"

"Yes."

The certainty in his voice made her look up. He still looked angry. She couldn't handle anger well.

"She's sorry, Puck" Santana whispered.

"It's too late."

"I tried to tell you" Quinn began hastily. "That day. Before I kissed you. Don't you remember? I wanted to say something but I let you go first and…"

_And you told me that you loved me. _She looked away again. The pain on his face made her almost sick.

"They tried to kill you" she mumbled. "For just one kiss. I couldn't… I can't..."

"I'm not my father."

"I know, Puck."

"I wouldn't have left you. Or my kid. I would have done what was right."

"We know" Santana said softly. "That's one of the things she was scared of."

…

The stew turned cold but that was okay, it was disgusting anyway. Santana talked animatedly about things that she had probably longed to tell Puck since he had left. He lived up and laughed at her stories. They talked about friends and neighbors and things that Quinn didn't know. She didn't mind, but after a while she left for bed. Santana followed her.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Do you want me to keep you company?"

"No, you should be with your best friend."

Santana pulled her in into something that almost felt like awkward hug. The both of them shuffled away. No, that was not their thing.

"It's better this way, Quinn" Santana said. "I promise. You don't need to lie anymore. And he's home. That's something, right?"

"But they know, San. Most of them anyway. They know that the baby is his. They will try to beat him up again."

"I know. I just… don't want to think of that yet. Is that okay?"  
>Quinn nodded.<p>

"Yeah, that's fine. I'll think of it enough for the two of us."

…


	19. someone who'll promise never to part

"Everything looks fine" Elisabeth told her son.

"Right" he said, like he might not believe her.

Quinn felt exposed with her shirt off and her naked stomach out for everyone to see.

"14 weeks, I believe."

"Right."

Here she was the one who talked, who asked questions. He sat mutely next to the gurney where she lay. He looked scared and shocked, like he finally realized that there was a real baby now that he could almost see it through her skin. She didn't blame him for being shocked; she still was too.

"What about the car accident? Did _it _get hurt?"

"I broke the fall" Quinn smiled.

He didn't smile back. He looked worried. It made her heart ache. It was so nice to see him worry about this baby. That she wasn't the only one. Though things weren't perfect or even near perfect, they were two in this. At least for now.

"The baby's fine" Elisabeth said calmly.

Puck nodded. He relaxed his shoulders a bit. Elisabeth left the room to see another patient.

"Thank you for caring." Quinn said.

"I don't know how not to."

But he smiled and she smiled back. No, things were not perfect, but she felt herself relax too. She wasn't alone anymore. Not right now anyway.

"I still can't wrap my head around it" he sighed. "It's like… I know it and then I don't."

"I know. I feel it too."

He examined his shoes. They were brown and worn. Hers were too. It was like they matched.

"Can I just ask you something?" he began.

"Sure."

"Are you… I mean, you're sure it's mine?"

She nodded slowly.

"Yes."

"What about Richard?"

"I was pregnant before I married him."

She wondered if she should tell him that yes, she had indeed slept with Richard, but only once and it had been for this baby and it had been terrible. Or was that too much information?

"Did he think it was his?"  
>"Yes."<p>

"Wow. That must have hurt."

Quinn reached over and picked up her shirt from a side table. She sat up and pulled it on before answering. She hadn't thought about it like that. But of course, yes. It must have hurt.

"Probably as much as it did when he realized that he didn't love me."

"Yeah?"  
>"<em>Yeah<em>. He didn't love me either. Just the idea of me. Like he loved the idea of us being a family, the idea of a baby."

"You can't really blame him for that."

"No" Quinn said. "No, you can't."

The door opened and the doctor (was there only one doctor on this floor?) stepped inside. She remembered his pointed questions at her last appointment and quickly looked away.

"Your husband has finally found the time to come with you then, Ms. Fabray?" he asked, feigning to be oblivious of the circumstances.

"No" she said.

"Yes" Puck said at the same time.

He probably didn't realize that everyone already knew the complete story, that no one actually thought that he was husband. They had all seen Quinn and Richard's wedding photo in the newspaper. There was no point in lying.

…

They left the hospital together. That felt good too. Not having to be alone. The truck was parked just outside the entrance but when they reached it, it was barely recognizable. Someone had slashed the tires, all four. However that was not what first struck Quinn. It was the spray paint all over the car's faded paint. With bright red letters the word NIGGER covered the entire front and back door. Under it read TRAMP, which she guess was intended for her.

"Great" Puck said.

He clenched his jaw tight. She wondered if this was like a déjà vu for him, if this was what life had been like with this father.

"We can take the bus" she suggested, suddenly feeling impossibly tired.

"The great Quinn Fabray, taking the bus" someone called out behind them.

Quinn turned. They were still there. Carlton and his friends. Spray bottles in hand and all. Quinn put one hand on Puck's arm to calm him. She wasn't afraid of them. Not of what they could do to her anyway. Because she knew that they would never kick her or fight her, because she was a _girl _and visible pregnant. Not even Carlton was stupid enough to do that.

"Was that the worst things you could think of writing, Carlton?" she asked resignedly.

He grinned at her, baring his teeth. She shook her head at him.

"Think of your children. Think of what they would think if they knew what you were doing to their aunt" she went on.

"Are you going to let her speak to you like that?" one of the other men asked Carlton.

"It's fine" Carlton said. "She's all talk."

"Of course I am" she snapped. "I'm not going to fight you."

"You're a coward."  
>"Yes" she agreed. "And so are you. It's kind of the only thing we have in common."<br>Puck's muscles tensed under her fingers. She stroked his skin soothingly. He couldn't fight them. He wouldn't survive it again.

"Whore" a small guy yelled at her.

Puck took a step forward. She pulled him back

"Let's go" she said.

"They can't talk like that to you."

"Come on, Puckerman!" Carlton shouted. "Fight me then! Come on!"

"No" she said, firmly.

Puck turned to look at her. His eyes were black with rage. She was calm enough for the two of them. Nothing in the world could scare her in this moment.

"Let's go home" she said.

It wasn't a question or a plea, it was a decision because she was sick of this. She wanted to go to bed and sleep.

"Are you scared, Quinn?" Carlton taunted her.

"No" she answered flatly. "I'm not. I just don't to watch you embarrass yourself anymore considering you're still married to my sister."

She took Puck's hand and walked away. He followed. His fingers closed around hers and she had never felt safer.

"Watch your back, Puckerman!" Carlton shouted. "She won't always be around to protect you."

They walked on. They got on the bus and paid and sat in the back. Still holding hands.

…

"Don't go out alone" Santana said. "Ever."

"San, come on" Puck tried.

"No, I'm fucking serious. You should just stay inside."

"Forever?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"For now."  
>She watched them bicker and sighed because he couldn't stay in this town. He would never be left alone. The people who had spat at his father would spit at him. He would never get a job again. He would have to leave. It was only a matter of time until the other two realized that too.<p>

"That sounds like a fun life" he commented.

"I don't care if you _have fun_."

"People could come here" Quinn suggested, clinging to every possibility that he would stay a bit longer. "Emma and the others. They could come here. You wouldn't have to go anywhere."

They both turned to look at her. She wondered if they forgot she was even there when they were fighting.

"For like, a party?" Santana asked.

"I don't know. Just bake something or…"

"_Bake something_?" Santana giggled. "God, sometimes I forget that you are a rich, white girl, Quinn."

"It's not a bad idea. Well, the baking might be. You're lucky you haven't tasted Santana's brownies… But we'll buy some cheap wine and invite everyone" Puck said.

Santana sighed.

"Sure."

She headed for the phone, leaving Puck and Quinn alone in the kitchen. He looked calm now, annoyed, but not angry.

"You didn't need to defend me back there" he said, not without edge. "I can stand up for myself."  
>"I know" she said. "I wasn't doing it for you."<br>"Then why did you do it?"

"For myself."

"He wasn't going to hurt you. Not while you're pregnant."

"I know. I didn't want him to hurt you. I didn't want you to get hurt again because of me."  
>His face softened.<p>

"I used to get angry, after my dad left. I used to beat people up and break things, just because I was angry. I thought I had gotten over it, but on that parking lot… That was exactly how I used to feel" he told her.

"But you didn't do anything" she whispered. "You walked away."

He nodded slightly. She wanted to take his hand again but no, because he was going to leave soon and it would hurt even more if she did.

…

Emma, Kendra, Brian and some other people that Quinn had a trouble remembering the names of came bustling into their house later that night. They came bearing gifts of white liquor and spicy chips and hugs. Quinn got hugged and kissed so much she forgot to hug back. As the night proceeded and people got drunker and in the end Kendra asked what they all wanted to know.

"What are y'all going to about that baby?"

Silence spread around the table.

"What do you usually do _about _a baby?" Puck joked.

"Yeah, but seriously?"

All faces were turned to her, asking, wondering. Quinn took a deep breath.

"I'm going to buy this house from Santana when she moves to New York and raise my child here. It'll be hard but my sister will able to get me money and…"

"More wine?" Puck asked, cutting across her words.

Kendra was drunk enough to completely forget what they were talking about and lunge for the green bottle. Quinn leaned back against her chair. Puck gave her a look she couldn't understand.

"You're going to be a great mom" Emma whispered in Quinn's ear.

"You think so?"

"Yeah."

Quinn smiled.

"Thank you. I'm not so sure myself. I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"I don't think anyone really knows" Emma whispered back. "As long as you love your child, that's enough."

Quinn smiled but felt her heart sink. If that was what was needed, love, she might be the worst mother in the world. She was cold and heartless and not able to love anything. Quietly, she excused herself and went to bed, more scared than ever.

…

When she woke up the next morning, it was almost midday. Santana slept heavily next to her, probably hung over. Quinn counted the hours she had slept, twelve, and wondered how she could be this tired. The baby of course. She swallowed, thinking about Emma's comment last night. She opened the door and stepped out. Puck was sitting at the kitchen table and looked up.

"Good" he said. "Sit down."

His tone was formal and quite harsh but she did as he told her. His eyes were red and his skin was slightly gray. She wondered if he had slept at all.

"Good morning to you too" she mumbled.

"Yeah" he said absentmindedly.

He pushed a binder of paper in front of her. She opened it and read headline._ Annulment of marriage._

"You said the only reason that you are still married to_ him_ is because you haven't done anything about it yet. I went to the court house. You just have to sign and send it to him and he'll have to sign and then it will be over" Puck told her.

"Why not a divorce?"

"This just seemed simpler, don't you think? Makes everything go away. There are all this relegations for it but I don't think Richard will fight you on it."

She nodded, looking for a pen, but spotting another binder. She pulled it towards her. _Prenuptial agreement and terms_, it read. She opened that one too. It was full of instructions, a number to lawyer and a place to sign. She stared at it.

"What's this?" she asked.

"I want you to marry me" he said simply. "What you told everyone last night… About you buying this house and raising our kid. I don't like it. It's not right. We should be a family."

Her fingers shook as she closed the binder again. He blinked.

"You can't stay here, Puck. You'll have to leave or your life will be hell."

"I'm not going to abandon my kid. Look, I have a plan. My dad works at a construction firm, did I say that? He told me that he could get me a job, somewhere to live. We could move, you and me and have the baby there."

She pushed the binder away from her. It made a raspy noise as it glided over the table's surface.

"I would never keep you from your child" she said slowly. "Never. If you want me to come with you to Washington, then I will."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Great!"

"But I won't sign this. I won't marry you."

His face fell and she almost wished she hadn't said it.

"Why not?"  
>"I can't marry someone because <em>it's the right thing to do<em> again. I just can't. I did that with Richard and it almost got both of us killed. I'll move with you, if that's what you want. But no, I won't marry you. It's not right."

He clenched his jaw so tight it must hurt his teeth.

"Is it because you don't love me?"

"You don't love me either."

"Yes, I do."

This was a childish game, she realized. They could argue this subject forever.

"You don't love me. I hurt you, I broke your heart, I lied to you and I got you hurt. You don't love me and I don't love anyone and that's not good enough to get married."

He walked away from her, outside, slamming the door behind her. She didn't blame him. Instead she found a pen and signed her name on the annulment form, then her signature and then her initials. And then it was done. She would be free of Richard soon enough.

…

Her head hurt and her throat felt sore so instead of getting dressed, she curled back under the covers next to Santana. She thanked whoever who had put up those dark blinds that could trick anyone that it was night all day long. That would be good when the baby came. He or she could sleep in here, where it was dark and cozy.

"Why did he storm off" Santana mumbled from her side of the bed.

"No reason."  
>"He shouldn't leave the house."<br>"You can't make him stay inside forever."

"No, but you can."

Quinn turned her back on her and fell asleep.

…

She could hear their voices through the wall, in fact that was what woke her up. They were shouting at each other, again. Quinn wanted to cover her ears and go back to sleep. It was like when Russell and Judy fought when she had been a kid and Quinn had always been so torn on which side to pick.

"It's a baby, Puck" Santana was shouting. "You get that right? A tiny person that will scream and poop and keep you up at night. It's not some shiny toy."

"I'm not an idiot."

"So you're just cool with it? Accepting? Ready to change your life for it?"

"Yes."

"You're lying. You have to scared or angry or something."

"Can't I just be happy?"

"No."

"She's happy" he shouted back

"Yes, now. In the beginning, I bet she was more scared than happy, but she had time to accept. You haven't."

"I'm not going to leave."

"I know. You keep repeating it, like a fucking mantra."

"What do you want me to do then, San? Blow them off? Leave them behind?"

"No. I need you to use your fucking head. She doesn't trust you, because she doesn't trust anyone. I bet she's convinced that you'll never ask her to move with you. I'm sure she's still set on buying this fucking house from me."

"I asked her to marry her" he yelled, too loudly, it made Quinn's head ache. "What else can I do to prove that I'm serious?"

Santana was quiet for almost a minute.

"You need to wrap your head around this. And when you do, if you still want to marry her and be happy family, then you'll work it out."

Quinn let them settle down before she got to her feet and staggered to the door. Her hand felt weak as she turned the door handle. Her forehead felt hot and her hands cold.

"I feel sick" she announced to them as she stepped out, just like she had done when she had been a kid.

"So do we" Santana snapped back. "I'm hung-over as shit."

"No, I feel ill. I think I have a cold."

Santana took a look at her and shook her head.

"I need to get to work. Puck, take care of her. You can do your soul-searching another day."

"Right" he replied.

Quinn filled a glass with water. Her mouth was dry.

"You want me to make you some tea?" he asked.

"Yes, please."

She wanted to ask for chicken soup, but those days were over. Grace wasn't here anymore to do everything she required. She would just have to suck it up.

"Go to bed" he told her.

So she did.

…

The tea had turned cold when she woke up again and she felt even worse. Panic struck her like a slap to the face. What happened to the baby if you were sick? Would the baby get sick too? She sat up in bed, her heart beating fast in her chest

"Lay back down" Puck told her.

He sat sitting, cross legged on Santana's side of the bed, reading the newspaper.

"The baby…"

"I called my mom. She told me it won't affect the baby. It's fine. Go back to sleep."

His voice was soothing. He didn't hate her for rejecting him. Maybe he realized that she was right. The thought hurt, even though it wasn't supposed to.

"I have a fever" she informed him.

"I know."

He leaned over and placed a hand on her forehead. For the first time ever, his skin was cooler than hers.

"I bet it was Brian" she mumbled.

"What?"

"I bet he was the one who was sick."  
>Puck grinned.<p>

"Why him?"

"He looked ill."

"Nah, that's just his face."

She tried to laugh, but it ended with coughing, the kind that echoed in the lungs.

"Do you remember the last time I was sick?" she asked when the coughing had subsided.

"No, not really."

"It was your fault. You made me swim in the lake."

"You don't get colds from _being _cold" he smiled. "It's a virus."  
>"I know" she whispered. "You told me that."<p>

She thought of what Santana said. That Quinn didn't trust anyone. Maybe that was true. That wasn't his fault. It was no one's fault. Perhaps except hers.

"I'll make you more tea" he said.

"No" she said quickly. "Please stay."  
>She hoped that he wouldn't ask questions, because of course, she had no right to ask that of him. None at all. And still she did it. God, she was a horrible person.<p>

"Don't worry" he mumbled. "I'll be right back."

Seeing him leaving the room felt like a bad omen.

…

And then Grace was there with her calming voice and experienced hands and hot soup. Quinn wasn't sure who had gotten her there and didn't ask. She laid her head in Grace's lap and listened to her talking in her soothing voice and breathed in the smell of her.

"Why did you come?" she asked. "You don't have to anymore."  
>"Taking care of you isn't a chore, Miss Fabray."<p>

"What is it then?"

"It's a duty."

"Not anymore."

"You're wrong, baby girl. It will be my duty forever. That's the curse of loving someone."

"You love me?"

"Of course."

Quinn felt tears dripping down her face. Hot tears. Fever tears. It wasn't fair. All these people who loved her whom she couldn't love in return.

"Don't" she said.

"Don't what?"

"Don't love me."

"It's not a choice, darling."

"What is it then?"  
>"It's a… a.. I don't know. You're the one who went to college."<p>

"They didn't teach about love there."

"Too bad. There's nothing that is more important."

…

"You're so fucking high-maintenance, do you know that?" Santana sighed, kicking Quinn for taking up too much space on the bed.

"I'm ill."  
>"When I get ill, I go to work and work twelve hours shifts."<p>

"I'm pregnant too."

"Yeah, but mostly, you're spoiled."

Quinn smiled. Her head felt lighter. The fever had left her system. Two days of misery but now she was better.

"You talk a lot in your sleep when you have a fever" Santana commented.

"Well, you snore."

Santana smacked her pillow into Quinn's face.

"Guess you're feeling better then."

"Yeah" Quinn said, throwing back the pillow at Santana.

"Don't you wanna know what you said while you were asleep?"  
>"Nope."<p>

"Not remotely curious?"

"It's fever dreams, San. They don't make sense."

"Whatever."  
>Quinn's stomach rumbled. She stepped out of her sweaty clothes she had been wearing for about 60 hours and into the one of Frannie's pregnancy dresses. She combed her hair carefully and put it up a pony tail. She even hummed quietly while she washed her face.<p>

"You're in a good mood" Santana complained.

"I feel alive today. Alive is good."

"You're psychopath."

Quinn laughed. She was in an impossibly good mood. Happy, even. She almost skipped into the the kitchen where she turned the radio and swayed to the music and cracked an egg into a pan.

"He left, Quinn" Santana said, entering the kitchen still wrapped in her comforter.

"What?"  
>"He needed some space… to figure things out. He was going to leave like two days ago but he wanted to make sure you were okay first."<p>

"He left?"  
>"Just for a couple of days. Got some job offer for building some house in Houston, jumped on the bus earlier this morning."<p>

"He said he was going to come back. He was just getting me some tea…"

She felt tears burn in her throat; tears that she did not understand. She had heard them talk (or scream) about this. This wasn't even a surprise.

"Your egg is burning" Santana said almost kindly.

Quinn lowered the heat on the stove. The smell of burnt egg filled the kitchen quickly. Santana opened a window.

"He'll be back" she said.

"No, he won't."  
>"Come on… You were Ms. Optimistic like three seconds ago."<p>

"He'll think about it and realize that this is crazy" Quinn said, keeping her voice even. "And that's good. I knew he would realize that sooner or later."

Santana sighed. She took the pan off the stove and rinsed it with cold water. It made a hissing sound as the water drops fell on the hot surface.

"He's just going to get some money and think a bit about the part that he's going to be a dad. And then he'll be back" Santana said sternly. "Don't be melodramatic."

"I'm not. I'm just telling you what's going to happen."

"He's not an asshole" Santana snapped defensively.

"I know. I'm not saying that he is."  
>"You're underestimating him."<p>

"No, you are."

The radio was playing a different song now. She recognized it immediately and turned to sound to mute.

_But it ain't me, babe_

_No, no, no it ain't me babe_

_It ain't me you're looking for, babe_

…

They took the bus to town because it was Saturday and Santana's was off work and she had suggested it. Quinn tagged along because it was nice to see something other than the inside of a house now and again. The sun was hidden behind big clouds which meant it wasn't steaming hot, instead it was bearable. Even quite nice.

"What was it like?" Santana asked. "Being able to walk around in town and actually _buy _something."  
>Quinn smiled.<p>

"Nice, I guess."  
>"You guess? <em>Jesus<em>."

"I never thought about it back then. I had never had it any other way."

Santana didn't answer. Quinn stole a look at her. She was staring ahead, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Quinn followed her gaze and then she saw them. Brittany. And her husband. And their children. Walking along on the sidewalk. Brittany was pushing a stroller and had her head bent down, speaking or looking at the child inside. Kevin was holding the other two kids by hand, a boy and a girl.

"Shit" Quinn said before she could stop herself.

She wanted to take Santana's hand and run off. Keep her sheltered from all this. Like Santana had sheltered Quinn from everything. She took her hand and tried to drag her along, to get them out of here, but Santana wouldn't move. And then Quinn realized that Santana maybe wanted to see this, to get closure or move on or whatever. Maybe that was why she had suddenly decided to go to town.

"Quinn!" Brittany shouted happily when she spotted them.

She was smiling widely and hurried closer. There was no shame or guilt or want of avoidance on her face. She threw her arms around Quinn's neck and hugged her to tight it almost hurt

"Hi" Quinn mumbled into Brittany's shoulder.

Brittany let go of her.

"I'm sorry. Quinn, I'm sorry. I heard what he did to you, Richard, I heard how he left you in that car. Oh, I'm sorry."  
>Quinn almost wanted to cry because it was so nice to hear that. Someone who had picked her side when everyone else had not.<p>

"Thank you" she mumbled.

"And you're pregnant! Congratulations!"

"Thank you" Quinn said again, thinking that she had really wanted Brittany to say that too, to be genuinely happy for her.

"And Santana!" Brittany carried on, hugging her too.

Quinn could see how Santana closed her eyes.

"Hi Britt."

"How are you? Still haven't left for the big Apple?"

"Nah, not yet. Might be heading for DC instead."  
>Quinn swallowed. Yes, of course. There was no way Santana would let Puck out of her sight again.<p>

"Wonderful!" Brittany exclaimed.

Kevin and the kids finally caught up with them. He looked hesitantly at Quinn. She was afraid he might ignore her, but instead he smiled and gave her careful hug. She respected him for it. He had probably only been told hideous things about her from his friends, but he trusted his wife's instinct. He really must love her.

"Hi Kevin" she said.

"Hi Quinn."  
>"Oh, you two haven't met our youngest! This is baby Ben!" Brittany said proudly, lifting the baby out of the stroller.<p>

Ben was fat and blonde and very, very cute

"He's lovely, Brittany" Quinn said honestly.

"Yeah" Santana exhaled.

"Darling, we're going to go in to the store. You come along when you're done, okay?" Kevin said.

Brittany nodded and watched as her husband entered the toy store down the street with the two oldest kids. She turned back to Quinn.

"It's not Richard's, is it? Frannie said it wasn't, the baby, I mean. She said the father is someone else."  
>"Yeah" Quinn admitted.<p>

"Is he nice?"

"Yes."

"Is he going to take good care of you?"

"I can take care of myself."

"I know" Brittany smiled. "You always could. But you know, sometimes it's nice to have someone to help."

Quinn nodded but said nothing.

"You were so brave, Quinn" Brittany went on. "You always were but even more now. I wish I was a brave as you…"

"I didn't love Richard. That made it easier."

Brittany's eyes flitted over to Santana's. Quinn felt like she shouldn't be here for this.

"I know what you're thinking, San. I know. But the difference is, I do love my husband."  
>Santana shrugged.<p>

"I know."  
>"I never should have gone behind his back… I regret it every day. And I never should have been selfish with you. I regret that too."<br>Santana looked away. Brittany took her hand.

"I married him because daddy wanted to, but I fell in love with him. And I love him to death now. We have a family, me and him and our kids. I can't leave him now, I don't want to."

Santana opened her mouth but shut it again. Quinn wondered if this was the longest time ever that Santana had been silent.

"I should have let you go ages ago. I'm sorry that I didn't. Can you ever forgive me?"  
>Santana nodded mutely. Brittany let go of her hand.<p>

"If you get sick of playing happy family, you could always find me in DC" Santana said hoarsely.

Brittany giggled.

"I will. I promise. If you'd still want me then."  
>Santana smiled a pained smile.<p>

"I will always want you."

…


	20. someone who will die for you

She hadn't really understood how nice it had been to have Puck there, until he was gone again. It was always better when he was there, Quinn realized, for her own sake and for Santana's. It didn't matter how well it went sharing that tiny house, just the two of them, it had been a better dynamic with him there.

Quinn made the time pass while trying to scrub the spray painted words off Puck's truck. Brian had known someone who had towed it to Santana's gate, but it still had no new tires and words shone as brightly as ever. Quinn tried everything, even bleach, but the words wouldn't fade. Maybe she could cover them with a new coat of paint.

"Give it up, Q" Santana sighed as she came home from work. "That truck needs to die anyway."

"He loves it though."

"It's the rustiest piece of shit in the entire universe."  
>"I know."<p>

Santana shook her head at her as Quinn went back to scrubbing at the word NIGGER. It bothered her way more than the word TRAMP.

"Hey, Q!" Santana called from the kitchen window. "It's Alex on the phone. He wants to talk you."

Quinn dried her hands on the faded jeans she had found at church's goodwill pile. They were the ugliest thing she had ever worn, but equally the most comfortable.

"Be careful" Santana hissed at her, with a smirk. "He sounds like he's in love!"

"Shut up" Quinn mouthed back. "Hi Alex!"

"Quinn! You'll never guess!"

"You got your report back?"  
>"Yeah!"<p>

"How did you do?"  
>"I got a B! My first B!"<p>

He sounded ecstatic and Quinn smiled.

"A B?" she teased. "You should have gotten an A."

"I know but I don't think my teacher is totally convinced I wrote it…"

Quinn laughed.

"You did, though. Good job."

"All thanks to you."

"Well, I can't take all credit. You were the one who read the book, remember?"

Alex laughed too. His laugh sounded like a deeper version of Santana's. She felt so much affection for this kid, who she barely knew but who made her feel so much better.

"So, are you any good at calculus?" he asked.

"What " she said, teasing him

"Thanks. I need to get as much help as I can before you leave."

"I probably won't leave, Alex."

"Wanna bet?"

"No."

…

Frannie looked flushed as she sat down next to Quinn on the park bench. Baby Laura, who wasn't really a baby anymore, was red in the face and angry and kept screaming.

"She's just hates the heat" Frannie sighed. "If she could have her way, she would never see the sun."

Quinn laughed and fanned her niece with her hand. It was a very hot day. Maybe the hottest of the summer. It was the kind of the day that Carlton and her father would only work half a day and then sit the rest on the porch and drink lemonade, while the workers worked.

"Poor baby" she said, kissing Laura's red cheek.

"I got you some more money" Frannie said, digging inside her purse and handing Quinn an envelope.

"Thank you. I will pay you back."

"Don't. It's Carlton's money. Keep it."

"I don't want his money."

"Fine, then it's mine. Just take it."

Quinn hid the envelope in her own purse. She wondered if Frannie knew about what her husband had done to Puck's car. Quinn wasn't going to tell her, there was no point. She didn't want to see her sister's face twist with pain.

"Am I ever going to meet him?" Frannie asked. "This man who has made your life like this."

Quinn smiled.

"I'm pretty sure I had some part in it too, Fran."

"It's strange. If I had been abandoned my mama and daddy, if I had no money and no home and was pregnant, I wouldn't look half as happy as you do."

Quinn laughed.

"I don't know. I just… Right now, I feel like things might work out."

"So, am I ever going to meet him?"

Quinn bit her lip.

"I don't know."  
>"Are you ashamed of me?" Frannie, half-amused and half-seriously.<p>

"No, but I'm pretty sure he's leaving soon."  
>"Leaving?"<br>"Yeah, his dad lives in DC. He can get a job there, a house, you know. Things he can't get here."  
>"And what about you? Is he just going to leave you behind?"<br>"No. Yes. I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"We didn't really plan this. We didn't date and get married and buy a house and then have a kid. Things are in the wrong order. I don't know if it will ever be right."

Frannie pressed Laura tighter to her chest, muffling the angry chokes of crying from her daughter's mouth.

"Doesn't he love you?"

"I don't think he can, not after what I did to him."

"Quinn, that's not how love works. You can't just stop loving someone because it's convenient or you really want to. Carlton has done awful things to me, and to you, and still I would never want to be with anybody else."

"How is that logical, Fran?"

"Don't you get it, Quinn? It's not."

…

Quinn was asleep when he came home. She woke up with a jerk as Santana shouted something and slammed the door behind her. Quinn didn't know if it was a good scream or a bad scream. It was almost dark outside, the end of the day. She wrapped herself in a blanket and went outside.

"You got a new car!" Santana yelled triumphantly. "Finally."

Puck stepped out of the black car and locked it behind him. The street turned dark when the lights went out. Quinn hid the shadows that the house cast on her.

"I guess it was time" he shrugged.

Santana held out her hand for the key, he dangled them in front of her face.

"Don't crash it. It's the most expensive things I have ever bought" he told, semi-serious.

"That's not saying much" Santana smirked, snatching the keys from him.

She ran past him before he could stop her, like a kid at Christmas, ready to play with her new toy.

"Nice wheels" Quinn said as the car lights were turned back on again and she could no longer hide.

He noticed her for the first time and smiled at her. A nice smile. An honest smile.

"You look more alive than the last time I saw you" he remarked.

"Yeah, the flu is gone, thank god."

"I had leave, you know, for the job. I need the money. I wouldn't have left otherwise. Not while you were sick."

"It's fine."

He nodded and she nodded too and they looked at each other. He looked dirty and sweaty. He must have driven all day to get back.

"It's a good car" he told her, stepping closer to her, close enough that she could smell the sweat on his skin.

"I'm sure it is."

"Safe, they assured me. Not exactly new, but better than truck."

"It looks shiny."

"And the brakes work. You always had a problem with that."

"I thought you said that you didn't need brakes. That your thick head would protect you" she said, knocking at his forehead with her knuckles.

"Well , you know, everyone can't be made of steel, like me. You're not, for example. You might think that you are, but you're not."

She wondered if that was some kind of metaphor.

"Well, you always said that there was no point in buying a new car just for me" she sighed dramatically.

"I changed my mind."

"Puck, I was joking."

"I know, but I'm not."

Santana braked hard on the street, making the wheels screech. Puck didn't even flinch. He stared right at Quinn. She stared back.  
>"This is me, proving to you, that I want to be with you. For real. I love my old truck, but you don't, so fine, this is our new car" he said.<p>

He looked completely serious but she couldn't. It was like something let go inside her. She smiled and then giggled and then laughed. She stood on tiptoe and carefully kissed his lips, like a reward for saying the right thing.

"You're stupid" she whispered but didn't mean it.

He shook his head at her.

"I ask you to marry me and you think I'm delusional. However, when I buy a car, you accept that I love you?"  
>"You did really love that truck."<p>

She pressed her face against his skin and let her believe for once that things would be fine.

…

She lay in bed next to Santana and matched her breathing to hers. Slow and steady. She thought of what leaving this town would really mean. It would be freeing, to be able to walk around and no one would know her. And scary, to be no one. Quinn had never been no one before.

And she had her family here. Her mother and father who might hate her now but hadn't always. Frannie of course, and her children, the ones who would have to grow up, hearing about what a shame their aunt was.

She had her friends too. Brittany who hadn't listened to the rumors or the gossip but chosen her own belief. Emma who had always been so nice and kind even though Quinn seldom deserved it.

She would leave them all, for what?

For Santana

For Puck

For this baby

Of course she would.

….

She woke him as he slept on the couch, where she had slept herself mere hours ago. She loved his face when he was barely awake, all soft and innocent, like a child. Like their child, perhaps.

"If you want me to come, I'll come" she said. "Let's leave. Let's just go."

"What?" he mumbled, reaching out and touching her face. "What time is it?"

"Do you want me to come with you?"  
>"I bought you a fucking car, didn't I?"<p>

"Right."

"Do you want to come with me, Quinn?" he asked. "Or are you doing it to please me?"

She wanted to do everything with him. Curl up beside him on the narrow couch. Kiss him. Buy a house with him. All that. It hit her like a slap, like a wake-up call.

"I want to" she said and tried to sound brave and maybe he bought it.

He smiled, no grinned, and pulled her down on the couch, on top of him. He kissed her like she was his, and maybe she was, and tickled her under her chin until she laughed into his mouth.

"Come to bed with me" she whispered.

"Santana's there, you know, that might be awkward" he said, winking at her.

"Shut up. I want you to sleep with us" she tried again. "No, don't smile like that. You know what I mean. _Sleep_."

She took his hand before he could make any more clever remarks and pulled him with her to the bedroom. Santana made a grunting sound as they added weight to the bed, but didn't wake up. Quinn lay in the middle, on the crack between the two beds that had been pushed together. Puck leaned over and kissed her neck like he had always kissed her neck like that, like she hadn't declined this proposal just a few days ago, like he had been certain that this would always happen.

"I love you" he whispered close to her ear. "Have I told you that today?"

He moved in closer, draping one arm across her, holding a steady hand on her stomach. On their baby. On her skin.

"It's better when you're here" she admitted, like it was a secret.

…

Suddenly life turned into this whirl of packing boxes and signing contracts to sell the house and of him being there all the time. Puck holding her hand casually as she got out of the (their) car and whispering things in her ear that made her laugh or kissed when she wasn't prepared. She kept wondering how life had been without him. It hadn't been bad. And it wasn't perfect now. But it was just better.

"Can you two please shut the fuck up about your fucking baby for one fucking second?" Santana snapped one night.

"Did you just say _fuck _three times in a sentence about our kid?" Quinn asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I liked you better when you were quiet and whiny, Q."  
>"I was never whiny."<br>"Just stop looking at each other in that ridiculous way. It makes me sick."

"In what way?" Quinn asked because she really wanted to know how this feeling made her look.

"I don't know. Like you're a stupid kid that just got a dog."

Quinn laughed and changed the subject because she didn't want to think. She knew that she acting naïve, not thinking about the future or making real plans for how their life would really be. For the first time in her life, she stopped thinking completely and was turned into some teenage girl with a crush.

"Puck, can you please tear yourself away from her and seal this boxes?" Santana asked in with a false tone of politeness.

"Of course, darling."

Quinn closed her eyes, smiling. Their ever on-going fight didn't bother her at all anymore. She had finally realized that that was the only way they knew how to talk to each other.

"Are you going to tell them that you're leaving?" Santana asked off-handedly. "Your family, I mean."

"Do you think I should?"

Santana shrugged while sloppily folding her clothes into a suitcase. All the blouses would get wrinkled and Quinn decided to repack it later.

"They don't deserve it" she said.

"No" Quinn agreed. "I guess not."

"My father probably didn't deserve to hear from me ever again, but it turned out fine" Puck argued.

"Yeah, well, he had like ten years to regret his mistake."

"I know and that's my point, _ten years _is like a hell of a time. Ten years where I hated him and didn't know him. I wish that I had found him ages ago."

Quinn knew that he was trying to meet her eyes but she kept them locked on the floor.

"It's not the same" she sighed. "Your father left, it was selfish and stupid, sure, but my parents kicked me out. They don't want to see me."

"One day, they'll regret that. They'll regret losing their daughter and their grandchild" he said and his voice was as soft as the cotton he used to pick.

"That's their loss" Santana said.

Quinn didn't reply because of course she had to say goodbye. Before she left this life forever. Before she stopping being _The_ Quinn Fabray, and became just a Quinn Fabray. A pregnant, young girl who ran away.

"Come with me" she asked or demanded them.

"No fucking way" Santana said.

"I don't think that's a good idea" Puck said.

But it was fine because she knew that they would change their minds. Just like she would have done for them.

…

She dressed up even though she had decided not to. She wore one of Frannie's pregnancy dresses that was pale blue and looked beautiful with her tan skin. She painted her eyelashes dark and her lips pink and then stared at herself in the mirror for over a minute. If she squinted, she looked like the old Quinn Fabray. The cold and bitter one with the pretty face and college degree. The one that everyone wanted to be. She wasn't that girl anymore. She washed off the makeup with such haste and urgency that her face turned red.

"I need to pee" Santana wined outside the bathroom door.

Quinn let her in. Santana had made an effort too, she realized. She was wearing a white blouse and dark skirt and her hair was shiny.

"Is that a new blouse?" Quinn asked.

"Nope" Santana responded. "I've just never worn it buttoned up before."

She showed Quinn by unbuttoning the top five buttons, making Quinn recognize it again. It looked very different worn as it was meant to be worn.

"It's my Nana's" Santana grinned.

"She'll kill you if she sees how you wear it."

"I know" Santana winked and pushed Quinn aside to look herself in the mirror. "Is that a new dress?"  
>"It's Frannie's."<p>

"Of course it is."  
>"I'm going put something else on. I feel like I'm playing dress up wearing it, and the makeup, and these pathetic pearl earrings."<p>

"Why? You used to wear that stuff all the time before?"  
>"Yeah. Before. When I was rich and stupid and naïve. Before I changed."<p>

"It's just clothes, Quinn" Santana said seriously.

"But I've changed so much. I don't even remember the person who used to paint her nails and…"

"You've changed a bit, yeah. You're more cynical, except now when you're in love. And you're more hands-on and more useful. None of that has anything to do with a dress. Keep it on, it looks good on you."

Quinn wanted to cry. She wanted to hug Santana and whisper something like _thank you, thank you for everything_. But she didn't. Instead she nodded.

"Okay. I'll keep it on. If you button up that blouse again."

Santana made a face.

…

Frannie waited for them outside when they arrived. She looked nervous or stressful and it struck Quinn that she had done so every time she had seen her sister over the past months. She hoped that she would get peace when Quinn left.

"They don't suspect anything, they just think it's a normal dinner" she said as soon as they got out of the car. "Grace is just finished with dinner. She made enough for all of you."  
>"Thank you, Fran" Quinn mumbled and caught her sister in a hug full of nerves.<p>

"We haven't met" Frannie said, looking over Quinn's shoulder. "I'm sorry for being rude. My name is Frannie, I'm Quinn's sister."

She held out her hand and Puck shook it.

"My name is Noah Puckerman" he said formally.

"I've heard a lot of about you."

"Likewise."

Quinn wondered what her sister thought of him. He was not her type, of course, like he had never been Quinn's either. They had both grown up with well-dressed men in suits and with pocked squares and shiny shoes. The kind of men that grew mustaches and knew how to dance. Puck was none of that.

"And hello, Santana" Frannie said friendly.

Santana nodded.

"Hi."

"She's usually not this rude" Quinn explained. "She's just nervous."

"Wrong" Puck smiled, nudging Santana's side. "She is always this rude. The nerves just add a bit more charm."  
>Santana rolled her eyes at them.<p>

"Should we go inside?" Quinn asked, trying to sound like she was prepared and ready.

"Yes" Frannie agreed. "Yes, of course."

Puck locked the car and took her hand and squeezed it. She squeezed back and then let go. She was glad that they were there for her but holding hands wouldn't help anyone at this point.

"Welcome to my home" she said and opened the doors.

…

Everything looked like it always had inside. The paintings on the walls were the same and the smell was the same and the people inside were the same too. The only change was how pale Judy's cheeks turned at the sight of them, and how red her husband's neck went.

"Quinn" Judy whimpered.

She extended her hands forwards, towards her daughter, but didn't move. Russell stared at her.

"I'm sorry for barging in" Quinn said, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I know how much you hate surprises, daddy."

"You have no right to be here" Carlton snarled at her.

She ignored him. She craved nothing from him. He was not her family, he did not matter.

"I invited them" Frannie said in her tiniest voice and Quinn was so proud of her.

"We're just having dinner…" Judy began.

"I told Grace to make enough for all of us."  
>Quinn took a deep breath and then sat down, next to her father. She nodded at Puck and Santana to do the same.<p>

"I want you out of this house" her father hissed at her.

"I know" she said. "Believe me, I know that. I'm just here to say goodbye."

Judy kept staring her, with wide opened eyes. Quinn realized that her mother had never seen her pregnant before. It must be shock.

"I won't stay if she does" Carlton whined.

"Then go" Quinn sighed.

"Don't tell me to leave my own house."

"Be quiet" Russell told him, like he was a dog.

They all fell silent. Grace came out of the kitchen and placed a big casserole on the table. She smiled hastily at Quinn before leaving again.

"Mama, daddy. This is Santana, my friend who gave me a home when you didn't."

Russell pointedly looked away. Judy opened her mouth but said nothing.

"And this is Puck. The man that Carlton almost beat to death."

"Is that all the introduction I get?" Puck whispered in her ear.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"You made a fool of us" Russell hissed at her. "Your entire family."  
>His hands were balled into fists. She wondered if he had it in him to hurt her. Maybe. If he hated her enough.<p>

"I know. I'm sorry. I was stupid."

"And with _him_, a negro, a Jew."

"No, I don't mean that, daddy. I wasn't stupid to be with him. I was stupid to marry Richard, when I didn't love him."

Judy dropped her knife on her plate, making everyone look at her. Her cheeks burned bright red and she looked away.

"Mama, you knew it, it can't shock you. I never loved him. You knew it too."

"I thought… "

"No, you hoped, just like me. You hoped that I would settle for him. Like you had for dad. But I couldn't."

Tear began to drip down her mother's face and Quinn let her go for now. She was weak, just like Quinn had been herself. It was not a crime to be weak. A flaw, yes, but not a crime.

"Leave!" her father shouted, getting up and looking down at her.

She swallowed down her fear. Puck's hand was on her leg and she had only one chance to say all this.

"I will" she said. "I'm going to leave. We're moving away. I could tell you to where but I guess you don't care."

Judy opened her mouth again, like to protest, but all that escaped her mouth was sobs.

"If you want to find me, ever, in a year or five, please do."

"_Leave_" her father insisted.

She ignored him.

"I'm going to have a baby, mama. I'm so scared and I want you to tell that it's going to be fine, but I know that you probably won't."

"A baby" Judy whispered, her first words.

"Judy, shut up."

"If you want to see your grandchild, mama, you can find me. Frannie will give you the address. I know that you're scared of him now, but if you change your mind, I'm not mad at you."

"You're _insane_" Carlton informed her.

"You don't have to worry about me" she said finally, ignoring him completly. "I lost you, my first family, but I have my own now. The people that didn't have to love me but do so anyway."

No one said anything. Quinn stood up.

"I'm going to go to my room and get some stuff. I'll be back."

She walked away quickly and she started hyperventilating on the stairs. She clutched her chest and thought she might break down.

"Hey" Puck whispered into her ear. "You did so good. It's fine. Just breathe."  
>"Did you leave Santana alone with them?"<p>

"She's been through worse."

Quinn smiled and leaned into him and let his breathing calm hers.

…

He lay down on her bed while she packed small things into a bag. Things that mattered, like jewelry and her high school diploma and her favorite slippers. She tried not to think about how this was probably the last time she would be in this room; the place where she had grown up.

"Don't cry" he whispered.

"I won't."

He came up behind her and embraced her. She let her weight fall into his arms, trusting him to hold her.

"Do think we will actually work all this out?" she asked, suddenly drained of all power.

"Yes" he said.

"We're so different."

"Is that a bad thing?"  
>"You're <em>Jewish<em>."

He laughed.

"Is that your biggest problem with me?"

"I don't have any problems with you" she said and it almost sounded like a proclamation of love.

"Stop it" he mocked her. "I'm blushing."

"We're not the marrying kind, you and me" she insisted, fighting her way out of the bliss that had surrounded her during the last couple of days.

"What does that even mean?"

"I don't know. You're the one who told me that. I just stole it from you."

"Then we won't get married. We'll live in sin!"

"Idiot" she mumbled. "That's not my point."

"Remember when I was in this room with you last time?" he asked, changing the subject and kissing the soft spot just above her collar bone.

"Nope" she teased him.

"Wow. Don't tell our baby that."

"I won't. I will never tell him or her about that night. And neither will you. That's just embarrassing."  
>"Don't you think it will like to know how pink your face turned when I kissed you right <em>here<em>?"

"Shut up."

"Or how you locked your fingers with mine and I thought that I would never let you go again? Ever."  
>"Shut up" she mumbled.<p>

"Don't you think our kid will want to know how we fell in love?"

"How do you know that I'm in love with you?" she smirked. "Maybe I just used you for sex that night."

He smiled and let her go.

"Whatever, princess."

He took the bag from her and she wondered if he would always help her carry her burdens and then they walked down the stairs.

"Stop staring at my boobs" they heard Santana snap as the entered the dining room.

Quinn couldn't stifle a giggle as she saw the look on Carlton's face. His cheeks were the darkest shade of red.

…

They stuffed all their belongings into the car. They filled it with gas and bought a map in case they got lost. Santana handed the keys over to the new owners of her house and got a cake from one of her jobs as a sendoff. And then it was time to leave. Elisabeth Puckerman hugged her son so tight Puck made a strangled noise but Quinn understood how much this must hurt for her, losing her son to a man she had once lost.

"You should come with us" Puck told her for the fiftieth time. "Come away from this town too."

"Maybe" his mother said. "Maybe."

She looked intently at Quinn before giving her a hug too. Quinn suspected it was directed for the kid inside her.

"You be careful" Elisabeth ordered. "Get lots of sleep because you are going to need it."

"I will" Quinn promised.

Santana stole hug from Elisabeth too and Quinn wondered how much Puck's mother wanted Santana to be the pregnant one. Not that it really mattered anymore.

"_Hija_, you call me every Friday" Santana's nana told Santana sternly.

Quinn gave Alex a hug because he looked so sad. She hoped he hadn't actually fallen in love with her like Santana had teased her.

"I just got my calculus test back" he said sadly. "I got an A. My first. Ever."  
>"That's great, Alex."<p>

"I will fail now that you leave."

"No, you won't. You're smart, you just have to believe it. And you can call me. I'm good at tutoring over the phone."

She kissed his forehead because he had given her every bit as much hope as she had given him.

"I can't believe you're really leaving" Frannie whimpered.

Quinn bent down to kiss her niece's cheek and her nephew's hair. Baby Jamie and baby Laura, who probably would forget about her.

"You can visit" she told her sister. "Please do."

"I can't just leave whenever I want to, Quinn. I have the kids."

"Bring them."

"I will, sometime, I promise. When things have settled a bit."

Frannie touched Quinn's stomach and smiled.

"I'm so sad that you're leaving but so happy for you."

"Well, cross your fingers that it will work out."

Frannie pulled her into a hug.

"It will, honey. I know it. You and the bitchy girl and the black boy. They should make a TV-show about you."

Quinn smiled.

"Maybe I'll write the script."

She hugged her sister one more time and then got into the car. She sat in the back with all the boxes and pillows and coats. Santana blasted the radio on full volume as they drove down the street. Their families stood outside Santana's old house and waved. Quinn waved too, even after they had turned the corner. It was like she was waving goodbye to herself and her own life. Goodbye, forever. Or something.

….

Elisabeth Santana Francine Puckerman was born a winter morning in Washington DC. Quinn felt like she was drugged as she held her tiny baby in her arms for the first time. The only other time she had felt like that was the morning after she had had sex with Puck. Maybe happiness made her stupid.

"She's perfect" Quinn repeating like a mantra.

"She is" Puck agreed.

"Where's Santana?"

"Out in the hallway. Only family allowed" Puck told her.

Quinn turned to a nurse.

"Please, can you go and get my sister? She's in the hallway. Black hair, short skirt, probably writing some speech about how we should change world."

"Yes, Ma'am."

They were alone in the tiny room again. The three of them. Their tiny, tiny family.

"We should name her after people we love" Puck said.

They had discussed this endlessly in the living room in their house; actually, they had discussed it so many times that Santana had moved out. She lived in an apartment in the city now, with a couple of friends she had met on a sit-strike outside the White House. Quinn missed her but understood that it couldn't be much fun living with a couple, and now, their baby.

"Elisabeth" Quinn said because they had decided on that on the drive to DC. "The most important person in your life."

"After you."

She was too happy to even comment on this.

"Beth" she said. "For short."

It was like they were repeating this manuscript they had prepared this occasion, pretending like it was improvised. Quinn thanked god for it because her mind was too cloudy to come up with anything new.

"And Francine, after your sister" Puck continued.

"And Santana, after me" Santana said, entering the room, accompanied by the nurse.

"Is she really your sister, Ma'am?" the nurse asked skeptically.

"It's complicated" Quinn said and there was probably some code that you didn't mess with new mothers because the nurse nodded and left again.

"How does it feel then?" Santana asked. "To be parents. Finally. I feel like we're been waiting for Baby Beth for ages."

"I don't know" Puck smiled. "I feel like I'm going to cry."

"You never cry" Santana argued.

"There's a first for everything."

"What about you, Q?"

"I feel… like I've been stupid."  
>"Well, yeah" Santana sighed. "Sleeping with him isn't always a pleasure. Ask me."<p>

"Shut up."

"No" Quinn said. "Not that. I just feel… like I've been stupid. I was so afraid that I wouldn't love her, because I wouldn't know how. And now that she's here, I've… I've loved her since the minute I found out she existed."

Puck kissed her forehead and she loved him too, she realized that now because this was what love felt like. And she had felt like that for him since forever. She couldn't remember a time when she hadn't felt like this for him.

"Welcome to the world, Beth" Santana said dryly. "Welcome to the world where men look at women as sex objects and try to keep them from power. Welcome to America where we pretend to be the land of the free but fight in too many wars. Welcome to a life where people will scowl at you because your mama's white and your daddy's not."

"She's too young for your rants" Puck sighed.

"You're never too young to be a feminist."

Quinn kissed her daughter's hands. They were so small in hers. Perfect. The feeling of joy coursed through Quinn again. Her baby. Hers and his.

"I hope she will look like you" she told Puck, just like she had a hundred times before.

"And I hope she looks like you."

"Fine, she can look like me. Just as long as she gets her everything else from you."

Santana made a gagging noise.

"I'm going to call your mama, Puck, and your sister, Q. When you're done being cheesy, shout so I can bring can come back with the champagne I bought in the gift shop."

* * *

><p><em>It's the end!<em>

_I've been writing this story for almost year and now it's over. I feel so... empty. _

_Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all of you. Thank you again for all the nice reviews and comments. You are all lovely._


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